


Do What Thou Wilt

by MrsMCrieff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Ghosts, Occult, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMCrieff/pseuds/MrsMCrieff
Summary: Sherlock and Molly are drawn in to a dark case which puts them both at risk. Rated for mature themes and eventual sherlolly smut. (Previously posted on FanFiction).
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 93
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so after some nagging from Annorahrose and a request from MetricJenn I’m finally getting round to posting this fic (which I wrote a couple of years ago) onto AO3.
> 
> First things first some warnings. It an occult fic, it has dark themes, talk of rape, death, sacrifice all sorts just so you know. I'll give individual triggers on chapters as we go through but I thought I'd warn now in case anyone doesn't want to start and drop out. If you want more specific information feel free to DM either through here or on tumblr and I'll happily answer any questions.
> 
> It was written and is set in between season 3 and 4 for context. Anyway, shall I get on and post…

It seemed initially like such an ordinary run of the mill case, not even a case, just the story of yet another teenage runaway.

She was 17 with a known history of problems, truanting at school, recreational drugs, anger management issues. The police had taken one look, done a few desultory investigations and then abandoned it.

So her mother had turned to the only person she believed could help her, Sherlock Holmes.

It was only sheer boredom on his half that had granted her an interview. He too had looked at the email and the attached reports from the police and come to the conclusion that the girl had purposefully run away, no doubt with some boyfriend, and would return when she was either dumped or when she ran out of money.

He asked Molly to sit in on the interview firstly because John was unavailable, he was 'too busy with the baby' as Sherlock had air quoted to an amused Molly, and secondly because he suspected, no he knew the mother would be emotional and Molly would be good with that kind of thing.

As expected she had arrived five minutes early, she had cried and pleaded whilst Sherlock had tried to get some straight facts out of her. Molly had indeed proved invaluable, making the woman some tea, fetching her some tissues and generally providing an air of sympathetic concern that Sherlock had felt completely bemused by.

Within a few short minutes he had determined to dismiss the case. Expanding his scientific paper on the burn rate of differing cigarette papers would ease his boredom more than this would.

The woman had obviously picked up on this and had leant forward grasping his knee with her bony, manicured fingers. 'Please Mister Holmes I'll give you whatever you need, whatever you want, money.....anything.' Her eyes had flicked nervously to Molly as she said this but the whole room knew exactly what she was offering.

Sherlock looked at her bleach-blond, dyed hair and her overly made up face, mascara now running in ugly streaks from her conventionally beautiful eyes and he tried to keep the grimace off his face as he unsubtly moved his leg away from her grasp.

'I would say I am sorry Mrs Bennett but that would be a lie, your daughter has no doubt been brought up to be....'

Molly butted in unexpectedly. 'What Sherlock,' she blushed and glanced at him, 'Mister Holmes is trying to say is that she'll probably come home in her own time. Keep in touch with her friends, I'm sure she'll contact one of them sooner or later. Would you like me to call you a cab or....'

Mrs Bennett shook her head. 'You're wrong, you're both wrong. I know my daughter and this isn't something she would do.' She sat still for a moment obviously thinking through her options. She nodded quickly to herself and reached into her handbag. She pulled out a bright pink notepad covered in purple flowers. 'This is Lily's journal, or diary I suppose. Please...please just have a look. See what kind of girl she was...is. I'm staying in London overnight at the Dorchester. You can either contact me there or, if I hear nothing, I'll call round tomorrow to collect the book and I won't bother you again.'

She held the book out to Sherlock who took it from her as though it was infected. She stood and looked at him awaiting some kind of response. After a couple of seconds of silence Molly got to her feet and thanked her for coming round, offering to show her out.

A moment or two later Molly came back into the flat and sat down in John's old seat which Mrs Bennett had just vacated. 'Well she was a bit forward wasn't she? Did you pick up on what she was implying? I know her daughter’s gone missing but that's just wrong.'

Sherlock closed his eyes ignoring her chatter and sat back thinking, not bothering to respond.

'Aren't you going to have a look at the diary then?' Molly gestured towards the book which Sherlock had just flung onto the top of a pile of papers on the floor.

When she got no response from him she bent down and picked it up. Up until 'that offer' she'd been feeling sorry for the woman. She was obviously deeply upset and worried about her daughter and desperate to find someone to help, but Molly had bridled at her offering herself to Sherlock like that, especially when she was in the room. Was it so inconceivable that she could be Sherlock's girlfriend, his partner?

Molly grimaced a little to herself, maybe it was. After all she wasn't his girlfriend, she wasn't anything to him, not really, only in her dreams. Maybe this woman had just taken one look at the two of them and had known automatically that Molly was not in his league.

She hoped Sherlock hadn't been tempted. He'd not reacted to her offer, but then Molly had been in the room. What if she hadn't been? She was obviously well off and even though she was a bit too made up for Molly's tastes she had been very attractive. The sort who would be used to men throwing themselves at her. Similar to that woman a few years back that Sherlock had identified from 'not her face'; Irene Adler. The name was ingrained into Molly's memory even after all this time.

She'd never quite got to the bottom of what had gone on there, between Irene and Sherlock, but they must have been close. He'd seen her naked, he had her moaning on his phone and when Molly had googled her name.....well, let's just say she'd felt shocked and a little sick. Not sick because of her profession; some kind of dominatrix, Molly was open minded enough about sex, but just at the thought of how little she was able to compete. If that was the type of woman Sherlock went for no wonder he'd never looked twice at her.

When she came out of her reverie and looked up Sherlock was looking right at her; his eyes narrowed in thought, no doubt trying to deduce what she was thinking. She blushed hoping he hadn't figured it out and she held up the diary, smiling as brightly as she could manage. 'Well, shall we have a look?'

She opened it to the first entry which was dated about six months ago. Reading aloud to Sherlock she began.

_Went back to school after Christmas. Soooo boring. All the teachers are banging on about is the exams. I don't give a fuck about them. If it wasn't for my mates and Liam I'd have jacked this in months ago._

'Hmm not exactly off to an auspicious start are we.' Molly skimmed a few more pages and then took up the narrative again.

_I can't believe Liam asked that bitch Cassie out. She's so false her boobs will probably come off in his hand if he tries to feel her up. Would serve him right? Don't know what I ever saw in him. Karl asked me out and I said I'd think about it._

_I can't stop thinking about him. He told me to wait, not to lose my virginity to the wrong person. I told him it was none of his business but he's so much more mature than the guys at school._

Molly flicked on again.

_Easter. He says it's an important time of year, says he's going to show me amazing things if I just wait. I told him all I was waiting for was the next Rhianna album, he laughed but said he'd buy it for me and anything else I wanted._

**Two days later**

_I kissed Karl for the first time and have to admit he's a really hot kisser. I even let him feel me up a bit but didn't go further than that. He says he wants to sleep with me. Karin reckons I should. Her and Vicky have both done it. I'm the only one who hasn't. Summer seems a long time off and I'm not sure I can be bothered to wait but he says it will be worth it_

_I pulled him up on the fact that he's always saying 'do what thou wilt' like some fucking stiff but then he tells me to wait. He said he'll make it up to me. He bought me an awesome bag the other day, the girls were all well jealous so maybe I will._

Molly flicked through a few more pages but it was all much of a muchness. She was about to throw the book down and let Sherlock drop the case when he leant forward and pulled it out of her hands.

She jumped a little in surprise but then noticed the gleam in his eyes as he flicked through the pages, seeing his lips mouthing some of the words as he scanned the young girl's words. It looked as though something had piqued Sherlock's interest.

'What's today's date?' He snapped at her. 'Come on....hurry up.'

'Oh err...20th April...why?'

Sherlock ignored her as he got up before sitting down in front of his laptop tapping away.

He had obviously found the page he was looking for as he used his forefinger to trace down the screen, leaning forward concentrating.

'We're coming up to Beltaine after that it would be Litha and the Summer Solstice. What's the last entry?'

Molly had no idea what Sherlock was talking about at all. 'I'm sorry what?' She sat forward looking at him baffled.

'The diary Molly, the diary. Come on...' He snapped his fingers repeatedly whilst she scrabbled around picking up the diary from the floor and finding the last entry.

Have decided that tonight is the night! I can't wait, everything is prepared I'm just waiting for Karl to text and then I'll let him know.....wish me luck.

'So, this Karl is that who she's run away with?'

Sherlock glanced round with a frown. 'What? No, don't be ridiculous Molly. This isn't about some teenage runaway. No this is a case Molly, a proper case.'

'Well I'm getting that from your reaction but I have no idea what has got you so excited or what all those dates were that you read out. What the hell is Beltaine and Litha and whatever that other one was?'

'They're important dates from the occult calendar Molly. Human sacrifice, that's what we're up against and it's possible we may not have much time.'

He checked his watch.

'We can get a train to Almsbury every half hour. If we aim for the 15.20 that should give you time to talk to Mike and pack. I'll book us tickets and meet you at Marylebone at just after three.'

With that he stood and started to make his way to his bedroom.

'Wait, hang on. I can't just up and leave with you.'

He turned as he reached the bedroom door and flashed her a wicked smile. 'Why not Molly? You've always wanted to be whisked away by me and now's your chance. I suggest you take it.'

He winked and then pulled the door too behind him leaving a baffled and bemused Molly in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly felt like maybe she was going a little mad as she made her way back to her flat, ringing Mike from the cab as she went. He was shocked at the short notice but he was always nagging at Molly to use her leave so after they'd discussed a few outstanding pieces of work he'd agreed to her taking a week off possibly two. Molly promised to ring him again in a few days’ time to confirm it one way or the other.

As she walked into her flat and Toby wound himself, kamikaze style, around her ankles threatening to trip her up she suddenly started to panic a little. She picked him up and ruffled the fur on the back of his neck hearing him start to purr loudly. 'Oh Tobes, what the hell am I doing? This is ridiculous. I can't go away with Sherlock; I'm bound to end up either making a fool of myself or more in love with him than I already am.'

She remembered back to that cheeky wink and smile he had given her. Damn him he had known exactly what he was doing, he knew she wouldn't put up as much of an argument if he gave her hope. He was manipulating her all over again and more fool her but it was working.

She pulled out her suitcase and ransacked her wardrobe trying to decide what to take. She had no idea what he was planning or how long they were even going for. In the end she decided to take things that would mix and match as much as she could. At least she was packing for warmer weather which was easier than for cold.

The last, but not least thing, on her list was hoping beyond hope that her elderly neighbour was in and would be happy to look after Toby. She hadn't even had time to go and buy enough food but Mrs Tyler was more than happy to keep an eye on him and didn't mind buying whatever was required, telling Molly not to worry even as Molly pressed some money into her hand to cover any costs.

A quick shower and a change of clothes later and she found herself stood near the ticket offices on Marylebone station nervously looking out for her travel companion whilst glancing at her watch. 

He was easy to spot when he did arrive; his height, his curls and his confidence as he strode towards her all helping him to stand out. Molly couldn't help the way her stomach flipped over at the sight of him. His Belstaff coat just served to emphasise his presence as it billowed out behind him as he walked.

'Good you're here. I'll just get the tickets. We're leaving from platform 4.'

Molly looked around. 'Where are your bags? Have you not brought anything?' She suddenly got a bit embarrassed about her own. Had she misunderstood what he'd meant?

He waved his hand towards the barriers to the platforms as he waited for their tickets to print out. 'I commandeered one of the staff to take my bags on ahead.'

Of course he had. Only Sherlock, and possibly his brother, would have the force of personality to not only find one of the almost non-existent attendants but have them transport their luggage about.

He was at least gentlemanly enough to relieve Molly of her suitcase as he guided her towards the train leading her up to the first class carriage at the front. A chap in a network rail uniform was stood waiting at the door. 'Your bags are on board sir.'

Sherlock palmed some money across to him and thanked him as they clambered on board. The porter had obviously alerted the steward to the possibility of a tip because almost as soon as they had sat down they were being offered drinks and other refreshments.

Sherlock shook his head but Molly ordered herself a sandwich and a cup of tea. As the young chap moved away to go and get it Sherlock smirked. 'Really Molly, food on a train, bound to be over-priced and underwhelming.'

'You're probably right but I'm starving. My lunchtime companion didn't offer me any food at his flat.' She raised an eyebrow at him smiling slightly.

'Touché, I promise I will next time....well, if I have anything edible to offer.'

As the train pulled out of the station Molly took a bite of her frankly disappointing lunch before turning to Sherlock who was seemingly engrossed in the view.

'So, what exactly is going on?'

He frowned as he looked back at her. 'I thought that was obvious!'

Molly suddenly felt like John. 'Maybe to you but not to me. I haven't got a clue what's going on other than the fact that we seem to be winging our way to the village that Lily Bennett is from.'

Sherlock glanced at his watch. 'Shepherd, she's Lily Shepherd. Her mother remarried. We should be there in just under an hour. We can hopefully stay at the pub in the centre of the village.'

'Yes, that's great. But what is actually happening Sherlock and what were those events or dates you were reading out earlier?'

He settled back in his chair and looked over at Molly as he spoke. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying rather than the startling blue of his eyes, they were so changeable sometimes blue, sometimes green, she could never quite pin it down.

'It was all in the diary you see, on initial reading it all just seemed to be her friends, school and boys. Boring. But as you were reading out those passages it became apparent that she was referring to someone else. Someone other than her friends or her boyfriend. Someone who was encouraging her to stay a virgin, someone who was quoting Aleister Crowley to her.'

That name was familiar to Molly. 'What, you mean the guy from Supernatural, the King of Hell? I love that show, most people seem to prefer Dean but I've always had a thing for Sam. He's all slim and muscular, perfect....mmmmm.'

'Molly, what on earth are you talking about?'

Molly jumped; suddenly realising she was talking to Sherlock and not one of her similarly obsessed female friends. She knew she was blushing as she cleared her throat. 'Well, you mentioned Alistair Crowley and he's in the show. He's a demon. Is that not who you were referring too?' She asked the question even though it was becoming painfully obvious to her he was not. She had a sudden burst of recollection. 'Oh, do you mean the Satanist guy from the 1900's?'

'Yes, Molly, that's "the guy" I meant,' he air quoted, speaking slowly as though to emphasise how slow on the uptake she had been. 'Though he doesn't actual appear to be a Satanist even though he's become the poster boy for the occult. He developed his own religion called Thelema and one of its principles was 'do what thou wilt'.

'Ahh, the words in Lily's journal.' Molly was starting to see where Sherlock's mind had gone.

'I'm concerned that whoever she was referring to as having said those words has been influencing Lily, endeavouring to keep her a virgin for a special date in the diary. The last entry wasn't about her planning to run away as everyone else seems to have assumed; it was about her planning to lose her virginity and I think she was abducted because of that.'

'But I don't understand why is it important that she stay a virgin?'

'I think somehow, our Lily has become mixed up in with some kind of cult or cabal, there are still people, groups out there who believe in human or virgin sacrifice on certain dates in the occult calendar. And the one coming up is one of the biggest in their year, at the end of this month is the Betaine Festival otherwise known as Walpurgis Night, 30th April.

Molly sat shell-shocked for a moment. 'So...oh God...you think she's being held somewhere so someone can rape her on that night?'

Sherlock nodded and looked back out of the window. 'If not worse, chances are it wouldn't just be one person but many, plus historically there have been instances of actual human sacrifice. I've already asked Greg to send me a list of any similar cases and or murders which might tie in.'

It was a sign of how seriously Sherlock was taking this case that he'd used Lestrades actual first name. Molly knew he got it wrong on a regular basis just to wind the Detective Inspector up.

They were silent for the rest of the journey Molly feeling a sense of foreboding over the coming days, hoping beyond hope that either Sherlock was wrong or he would be able to find the girl before anything more happened to her.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

It was just after four when they pulled into the small station at Almsbury. The weather had started to turn somewhat; looking overcast and ominous and Molly wondered if it was some kind of sign before internally berating herself for being so susceptible. She was a woman of science, a doctor, she should know better. But she couldn't help it she had always had a fascination with ghosts and the supernatural and on first inspection if there was going to be anywhere in England with superstitions it was going to be here in this small and isolated location. As they took an old, battered cab into the centre of the village Molly saw not only numerous old, thatched cottages but even various standing stones dotted around the outskirts.

They pulled up in front of the pub, which sat right on the edge of the silent village green and Molly almost laughed at the cliché, the pub was called The Witchfinder General. She turned to Sherlock. 'Witches....really? And standing stones, can this place be any more spooky?'

He smirked as he picked up their luggage. 'Not afraid of ghosts are you? Come on, let's see if they've got rooms.'

The pub itself was advertised as having been built in the sixteenth century and it matched its credentials; Sherlock had to duck to get in through the door although Molly was just about OK. Once inside the ceiling and the ancient beams were quite low but just high enough that Sherlock could move around safely. As they walked towards the bar Molly was surprised to see an old well actually built into the middle of the pub. She'd never seen one inside a building like this before.

She glanced over the edge, there was a metal grating about three feet down but beyond that she couldn't see the bottom. A small plaque pinned on the side told her that it was built long before the pub and was over sixty feet deep. There was also a paragraph about it being used in the witch trials in the 1700's with the rumour that the bodies of five women were still lost in the bottom.

Molly shivered in disgust and hurried to catch up to Sherlock who was ordering a drink for them both at the bar and asking if they had a couple of rooms free.

The woman behind the bar nodded happily. 'Oh yes, we only have three room in total but they're all available. Is it one or two you need?' She said cheerfully as she looked appraisingly at the two of them.

Molly blushed and smiled shyly at the thought of someone pairing her up with Sherlock but was brought back down with a bump by Sherlock's immediate and resounding. 'Two, definitely two!'

'OK, well if you'd just like to fill out this slip I'll get you your keys. I can show you up when you've had your drink. Adrian can take your bags up now though. How does that sound?'

'Perfect, thanks,' answered Molly bending her head to fill out the form that Sherlock had pushed her way.

'Do you know how many nights you'll be here?'

Molly looked to Sherlock who answered. 'Three initially but maybe longer. I'll pay in advance.' He then handed over what looked suspiciously to Molly like an American Express black card. She knew Sherlock had money but you had to be seriously loaded to get one of those cards.

A guy about their age came out from the kitchens when called and introduced himself as the afore mentioned Adrian. Molly took a real shine to him, he was very friendly and very obviously gay. He chatted away happily asking where they'd travelled from and what brought them to Almsbury. 

Molly was surprised by how verbose and open Sherlock was, he mentioned they were there for work but didn't say what and asked a few questions about the village and how long Adrian had lived there.

'God, all my life for my sins. I run the local drama school and work here part time. Meredith, the landlady runs the place and lets me hire a room as well. Couldn't be living at my parents in my thirties could I? Well, you can't if you want a sex life. Not that there's much going on here. I sometimes feel like the only gay in the village. You'll have to tell me all about yourselves, I get bored talking to the same old people, we need some fresh blood. Anyhoo, I'll take up your bags and leave them in your rooms.' He turned to Molly and winked, 'I'll give you the best one hey seeing as he's grumpy enough not to share with you...at least not yet, he will though, he will, just you mark my words. I'm renowned for my premonitions and I'm getting a strong one about the two of you.' He wagged his index finger back and forth between the two of them before he smiled again and then made his way to the small staircase at the back of the bar with their bags.

Molly was a little stunned by his meandering one-sided conversation but when she turned to Sherlock he just rolled his eyes. 'Before you even ask Molly I don't believe in clairvoyants, as I'm sure you don't. I got you a white wine and soda I trust that's satisfactory.'

Molly took the drink gratefully, already feeling like she needed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still setting the scene. Hope you like it, let me know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and comments. Glad you're enjoying this for either the first or second time around.

'So what's the plan?' Asked Molly once she'd had a sip of her wine.

Sherlock sat back in his seat in the dimly lit pub, nursing his beer. 'Lily and her mother have lived in this village for the past four years ever since Lily's father died. Her mother remarried a local, by the name of Hugh Bennett, he's made a lot of money in the City in banking but took leave under suspicious circumstances about a month ago, financial irregularities possibly.' 

'If Lily has got herself mixed up in some sort of cult it has to be based here or in one of the neighbouring villages. First step is to get chatting to the locals and see what stories we can dig up, see who might be involved but we need to be careful, any one of these people could be part of the cult and if they know we're on to them they may get rid of Lily sooner rather than waiting.'

As he spoke his eyes were taking in all the people in the pub, no doubt deducing the life out of them, Molly knew what that felt like. She also couldn't help but notice just how many of them were also glancing at her and Sherlock and murmuring about them to each other. Nothing like newcomers in a village to set tongues wagging.

'And how do you know so much about the occult? I thought you'd delete that sort of information as irrelevant just like the solar system.' She giggled a little as she mentioned the latter and Sherlock looked back at her with his eyes narrowed.

'Hmm, John told you about that did he? I keep telling him that in order to keep my brain working at maximum capacity I have to delete useless and irrelevant information.'

Molly lifted up her glass. 'So how come you've retained what my favourite drink is then?'

Sherlock was struck dumb momentarily as he wondered to himself why he had kept that, but she'd moved on.

'No, but seriously the occult?'

'Well, you'd be surprised how many criminals use spiritualism or cults for their own gain. But more importantly when I was disbanding Moriary's network I actually came across one group who saw James Moriarty as the reincarnation of Aleister Crowley. They were determined to call up his spirit and force a new reincarnation. Completely mad of course, but two girls were killed in sacrifices to try and accomplish it.'

Molly was about to reply when Sherlock leant forward whispering in her ear. 'The barman has just come back down. He seems chatty, get him talking, tell him you're interested in the well and other local superstitions.'

He stood up, picking up his coat which he'd taken off earlier, and said more loudly. 'I'm off to my room then Molly, I'll meet you later for dinner.' 

'OK.' She smiled widely and watched as he made his way to the stairs watching him duck in order to fit through the doorway, all the while trying not to be too obvious about the way she was staring at his backside in those oh so tight trousers.

After he'd gone she took her drink over to the bar and sat on one of the bar stoos. 'Hey, do you mind if I sit here for a bit? I haven't quite finished my drink yet and I hate to drink alone.'

'God, yeah course. Sit yourself down girl. So what's brings you to our dismal little village?'

'My...um...colleague has been asked to look into the disappearance of Lily Shepherd. Do you know her?'

'Yeah I do, believe me everybody knows everybody in this place. No keeping any secrets here. She's a cute kid, pretty in a conventional way, like her mum. Now she's a bit of a goer that one, went through the men in the village like a dose of salts, married and single, when she first arrived. She fell on her feet with Hugh though, he's loaded.'

He carried on. 'I was sorry to hear Lily had run away. She'd been to my drama group a couple of times soon after they moved here but it wasn't really her thing and she didn't stay. Grapevine has it that she was unhappy at home and her boyfriend's involved in her disappearance but he's walking round looking depressed as and denying all knowledge. So who knows!'

He poured Molly another drink winking and whispering. 'On the house.'

He went on. 'So what's the deal between you and the hottie you've brought with you? Coz I so would! Does he swing just your way or do I have a chance with him as well?'

Molly nearly spat her drink out at his forwardness but he just laughed. 'Come on, I know you would. I saw the way your eyes followed his ass out of the bar. What gives?'

Molly thought for a second before answering. 'Honestly from what I hear most of the time he doesn't swing anyway at all. I've heard rumours about him being both straight and gay so your guess is as good as mine. All I know is he isn't interested in me, believe me I've tried, but no....we're just friends.'

'Well, OK, if you say so…and as we're friends now I won't go there either. Anyway like I said earlier I see a connection between you both; he may not acknowledge it yet but it's there and it will come out you mark my words. God, I sound like an old witchey hag from a movie or something.'

Molly took a chance. 'So you never had a premonition about Lily then?'

'Funny you should ask that, I do remember getting a black feeling from her when we first met, like a cloud hanging over her future. But other than that no, some feelings are stronger than others.

'A place like this must be full of superstitions though. I mean what's the deal with that well right in the middle of the pub?'

'I know right, there are so many odd things about this village that I could tell you about...'

At that moment the landlady came out of the back office and asked Adrian to take over in the kitchens, he nodded and turned back to Molly. 'Duty calls. Listen, I'm free tomorrow, if you're around I can give you the full tour of the village, tell you everything. What do you say?'

Molly smiled, 'well, I'll have to check whether Sherlock needs me but if not, yes that sounds great.'

'Cool, and my god, does he always wear shirts that tight? I swear I got a hard on just looking at him.' With that and grinning widely, Adrian made his way out of the bar and into the kitchen.

Molly laughed again, glad to have found a sympathetic ear.

After she'd finished her drink she made her way up to her room which was fairly small but beautifully decorated, in keeping with the old fashioned nature of the pub. The only discordant note was a bizarre picture on the wall opposite her bed. It caught Molly's eye as she picked up her suitcase to unpack and she had to go over to take a closer look.

It was a black and white print and seemed to be a horde of demons ransacking a kitchen. There were dismembered heads on plates and strange contorted beings; part human, part animal. It made Molly shudder and she wondered whether she should take it down or turn it to face the wall or something. It was so strange it made her feel almost violated and dirty for looking at it. 

Just at that moment she heard laughter from downstairs in the bar and she gave a shake of her head, she was just being daft it was only a picture. Instead she concentrated on unpacking a few bits and pieces and freshening up in the tiny en suite shower room before knocking on the door to the bedroom next to hers.

'Come in Molly, door's open.'

Molly went in to find Sherlock's room was about half the size of her own. Adrian hadn't been kidding when he said he'd give her the better room. There was little more than a double bed, wardrobe, an armchair in the corner under a sloping eave and a bedside cabinet. 

Sherlock was lying on the mahogany wood framed bed, thinking. He'd thrown his coat and jacket onto the chair so in lieu of anywhere else to sit Molly kicked off her shoes and sat at the bottom of the bed, leaning against the footboard with her hands wrapped around her knees.

'How did you get on?' He asked without even opening his eyes.

Molly couldn't help letting her eyes wander over his body. Given the humid almost oppressive warmth of the room he had removed his shoes and his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. His arms looked all veins and muscles and Molly found herself fantasising about what those long artistic fingers could do to her.

'Molly?' Her reverie was broken as she realised he was looking at her slightly puzzled.

'Oh..um..sorry. Well, I got chatting to the barman. He was nice.'

'Keep to the relevant facts Molly.'

'He knows the family...' And Molly explained everything she had learnt about Lily and her mum. 'He's offered to take me out tomorrow and show me the village, tell me all about it.'

'Excellent,' Sherlock sat up so fast that it made Molly jump a little, he suddenly seemed to be that much closer to her. 'See what gossip you can pick up, it seems as though he'd be a good source and he obviously likes you. I'll go to the family home and check out the girl's bedroom, talk to the mother and step-father and see what else I can glean.'

Molly couldn't resist her next sentence. 'I think he likes you more.'

'What? Who?'

'Adrian, the barman. I think he fancies you.'

Sherlock tilted his head slightly looking at her thoughtfully. 'Not my area Molly, I would have thought you of all people would know that.'

Molly couldn't quite believe what came over her but she couldn't help asking. 'You mean you're not gay?'

He narrowed his eyes and smiled a strange smile before eventually answering. 'No, Molly. I'm not gay.'

He put on his shoes and then stood picking up his jacket, changing the subject. 'Dinner? I'm not hungry myself but John berates me if I don't keep him regularly fed so I'm assuming you would feel the same.'

'Yes, thanks.' Molly took his proffered hand as he helped her off his bed. 

As they walked down the narrow stairs a thought suddenly struck her. 'Hang on, what did you mean by me of all people?'

'Molly, I've always told you that you matter the most, you're as bad as John, you see but you don't observe. Right, do you want to find a table? I'll get the drinks.'

Molly still wasn't quite sure what he meant but figured it was easier to let it go than pursue it. She'd already had two glasses of wine and it was going to her head a little. She needed some food in her before she embarked on a third. It felt fun though, almost like being on holiday, which when she thought about it, she agreed it was for her. All this, solving crimes with Sherlock, it was a vacation from her normal life tucked away from the world in her morgue.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

The food in the pub was delicious. Molly had polished off a homemade Cottage Pie with fresh vegetables as well as indulging in a summer fruit pudding afterwards. It was a little disconcerting to sit there eating whilst Sherlock just drank and surveyed the pub but the wine helped her to ignore him.

By the end of the third glass she had lost some of her inhibitions around him and was actively teasing him about his confirmed bachelor status. 'Don't you ever just need somebody though, don't you ever feel lonely? I know I do. Living alone with a cat is just sad. I suppose at least you have Mrs Hudson for company.'

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 'I have Mrs Hudson for company! That's supposed to be a bonus is it? Anyway if I need somebody I can have you. Isn't that what you told me all those years ago?'

Molly blushed and giggled knowing somewhere deep down that she was in danger of embarrassing herself. 'I did say that a bit awkwardly didn't I? Not that I didn't mean you couldn't have me, because you could, if you wanted to, not that you’d want to I mean...so, I'm not sure what I was saying. What was I saying?'

He leant in and Molly found herself mirroring his actions and leaning towards him. 'You were saying I could have you if I wanted you.' His voice was low in her ear, that deep baritone seeming to rumble right through her. She bit her lip and shook her head trying to feel a bit more sober. 

He sat back in his chair and downed the rest of his pint. 'Right, I think we've probably had enough; it's past eleven. Are you coming up Molly?'

He stood up and looked down on her smirking. Dammit he's doing this on purpose, knowing how much he affects me, her fuddled brain was telling her. 

'Mmm, I suppose so.'

She followed him up the stairs wondering how she was going to manage to sleep given all the dirty thoughts going through her mind right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Molly, it seems Sherlock is in a flirty mood. If anyone wants to check out the print in her room I’m afraid I forget the title but it is an etching by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. All his etchings seem to be of a similar vein so you’ll get the idea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s maybe a little slow going but I hope you don’t mind me setting the scene and investing in the characters. The action will start to pick up I promise.

Sherlock was soon ready for bed, although he was a bit put out about not having an en-suite bathroom. On the plus side though it didn't look as though he was sharing the main bathroom with anyone else.

He lay on his bed in the dark looking up at the patterns of light on the ceiling coming in from outside. His thoughts turning back to the flirtatious conversation he'd cut short with Molly. He needed to make a decision about something, something he had been putting off for a while now but was really starting to become a distraction; namely sex.

Abstaining had never really bothered him, not for years, but recently it had started to and it was getting worse. It began a couple of years ago with Irene; he'd been tempted, he really had. For the first time a woman had got the better of him, she was intelligent and attractive and he'd actually found himself considering it. Then only last year with Janine, she'd been fun and also attractive, very willing to put out, it had been a struggle to find reasons to keep saying no.

For months since then he'd frequently found himself dreaming and fantasising about sex; lurid, technicolour, rolling images of fucking someone. And more recently those nameless, faceless encounters had morphed into Molly and now she was in his head, now he'd shagged her a hundred different ways in his fantasies and he couldn't help wondering how the reality would compare. His biggest concern was sentiment though. Yes, he knew he could probably get her to sleep with him but she would expect emotions…feelings, and those were things he felt he couldn't offer her. Was it fair to embark on something with her that he could only partly fulfil? That was his dilemma. She was his friend and she deserved more from him than a shag every few days.

But equally, not having her was driving him mad. When he had leant towards her that evening and commented about being able to have her he'd heard her breath hitch, saw the pulse in her neck speed up. When she'd looked at him her eyes had been fully dilated and her cheeks had had a delightful blush across them. Even just thinking about her was making him hard. Maybe if he was honest with her about how he felt or didn't feel they could make it work? She'd said herself, tonight, that she was lonely, that at least was something he could offer; companionship. Maybe it would be enough, but maybe not. He knew he'd probably end up doing nothing for fear of losing her as a friend but this dilemma was driving him to despair.

He was also concerned about this case. Cults and religious fervour, albeit subverted here, were often the hardest to crack. It always amazed him the lengths people would go to for a belief system. Even just a cursory examinations of the village and its inhabitants had convinced Sherlock further that this young girl was caught up in something very evil and most definitely life threatening. The village was remote, effectively cut off from the rest of the world and civilisation. How easy it would be to corrupt those charged with moral leadership; the village priest, the doctor, the Lord of the manor, the pub landlord or landlady in this case.

He needed to try to find out who the ring leader was and based on that where Lily might be being held. They only had a few days before Walpurgis night and any potential sacrifice took place. He just hoped that that was enough time to get someone in the village talking, the trouble was who could they actually trust.

Molly meanwhile, for all her concerns, fell asleep with no thoughts at all. Sleep taking her before she was even aware of it.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

When she got up the next morning she felt refreshed and excited for the day ahead. She'd spoken to Adrian later on in the evening and they were going for a wander round the village at about eleven, apparently he was not one of life's early risers.

By the time she got downstairs Sherlock was already there drinking a coffee and glancing through one of the morning papers. All she got from him was a curt. 'Molly'. Not a morning person then!

She made the most of someone else cooking to have a full English breakfast with lots of tea and toast before glancing through her own paper. She found herself feeling relaxed and comfortable with Sherlock and she even managed to engage him in some chit chat about a recent scientific discovery that was being reported on.

After a second coffee he informed her he was heading out and they agreed to meet back up over dinner to catch up with what they'd each found out.

She had a couple of hours to kill before she met Adrian so she made the most of her down time to go back to her room and read a book that she'd downloaded on her kindle. Given this situation she was reading up about witchcraft and the occult and none of it was making her feel optimistic about this case. The more she read the more she worried about Lily and what might happen to her. It was hard to believe in this day and age with all of society’s technology that there were people who believed in devils and demons.

Whilst she was reading though she became aware of a strange sensation washing over her. It felt almost as though she was being watched. She kept putting the book down and examining the room as though looking for eyes following her. Each time her eyes were drawn back to the demon inspired picture on her wall; it kept making her shudder. She tried to ignore it, telling herself it was just the contents of her book, the picture on the wall and her imagination, but in the end she felt so self-conscious and uncomfortable she ended up taking the book downstairs to the bar and reading it there.

Adrian, true to his word, came down just before eleven, looking tired and a bit dishevelled. He used his hands to sort his hair out and after he'd stolen some drinks and sandwiches for their lunch from the kitchens they set off.

The first stop wasn't far at all, the well in the centre of the pub. Adrian told her that the pub got its name in the early 1700s when witch hunting was at its worst. The village had had a couple of bad harvests and had been flooded and the inhabitants had turned to the local church for help. They in turn called in a witch hunter who had come to the village and identified half a dozen old or single women as witches.

Their fate had been the well. They had been thrown down, if they survived the fall they were witches and would be burnt at the stake and if they didn't....well everyone was very sorry and they would receive a Christian burial. But in the end the bodies were rumoured to have been left down there.

They were silent for a moment as they both considered that but then Adrian picked up the tale once more. 'It's said the pub is haunted. The women have been known to walk through the bar and wail at the edge of the well. The hauntings were said to have caused one landlord to go mad and throw himself down the well in 1933. His room was the one you're in upstairs...hope you're not gonna be too scared.'

He made a 'woo' sound whilst wiggling his fingers and laughed at her as she rolled her eyes at him. 'I think I'll be fine thank you. So, what else is there?'

They made their way out of the pub into the crisp spring air; once again the clouds looked ominously like rain. It was just warm enough that Molly didn't need a coat, although she did have her favourite cardi on and a raincoat in her bag just in case. She had noticed Sherlock scrunch his nose up slightly when he'd seen the cherry covered cardigan but she didn't care, it wasn't as if it was her clothing that was putting him off being with her.

They turned left and walked towards the village green and the duck pond. Adrian had brought some food for them to throw down to the ducks and Molly felt like she was five years old again watching them all eagerly swimming over and waddling round their feet. At the side of the pond was a single standing stone at least seven feet tall.

Molly wandered around it trailing her hand on the cold stone whilst Adrian prattled on.

'It's said to have magical powers. If you make a wish whilst holding the stone with both hands it's supposed to come true. Never has for me though but you should give it a try.'

Molly giggled and bit her lip giving it some thought. In the end she placed her hands on the stone and closed her eyes. _I wish Sherlock wanted a romantic relationship with me, but at a minimum a one-night stand would do._

She felt strangely cold for a moment but as she opened her eyes she saw that a dark cloud had covered what little sun there was momentarily. It still gave her a bit of a shiver down her spine though. As they walked away Adrian winked and said. 'Oh, yes I forgot to mention. Hope your wish didn't involve a guy coz it's a fertility stone as well, you might just end up pregnant.'

He laughed and ducked to the side as Molly gave his arm an outraged punch.

'Thanks you could have warned me before!’ She shook her head and giggled before changing the subject. ‘So, what's the story behind the other standing stones? You seem to have quite a lot dotted around.'

'Now that goes back even further than the witches. It is said that back in medieval times the people of the village stopped going to church and became godless. Their argument was that they didn't believe in Satan and without the devil there was nothing in life to be afraid of. Why spend your time restricting yourself if there's no risk of punishment in the life beyond? I know, cool right. Anyway, they spent their down time drinking, having sex and dancing. The local priest was outraged and prayed to God to save them.'

'Except it wasn't God who answered the prayer. The devil, Satan himself, is said to have heard that they didn't believe in him and he came to the village and found them revelling and dancing and he petrified them where they stood to act as a warning to others that he existed.'

'Some of the stones were still used up until about fifty years ago for animal sacrifices to ensure he stayed away. You can still see where the blood soaked into the porous rock in places.'

They walked on for about another twenty minutes with Molly admiring the cottages and the pretty gardens. Adrian was less enamoured. 'You're kidding aren't you. It's so unbelievably boring here. If I had the money I'd live in London. I'd love your lifestyle, all that nightlife, clubbing, men...so many men.'

Molly didn't say much, thinking about how different the dream was from the reality. Life spent clubbing had got tired for Molly quite quickly and being in unrequited love with a Consulting Detective had somewhat stymied all those men she could be hooking up with. She kept up a bit of a pretence with Adrian though, she didn't want to come across as too sad and pathetic.

At the edge of the village they climbed a small hill and looked round at the neighbouring countryside. Molly noticed a few other hills similar to the one they were stood on, they were so uniform in shape and size that she couldn't help but comment. Adrian looked at her with a sly smile. 'I wondered if you'd notice. Clever you! They're not hills, at least not normal hills they're burial mounds. Each one has a stone room inside, sometimes two rooms, where the dead used to be buried, there's even talk of connecting passageways between the mounds and the village though I've never found any. Some of the mounds are open, archaeologists came and explored them a few years ago. Fancy taking a look?'

Molly obviously wasn't squeamish about the dead but she had a natural distrust of entering some dark, prison like chamber with an almost stranger…that no doubt came from her friendship with Sherlock. In the end he was her excuse, she commented how much he'd like it and asked if they could save that until another day and Adrian was happy to defer.

They ate their makeshift picnic on the top of one of the tors and talked about their lives and how they'd got to where they had. Adrian was fascinated by her job as a pathologist and how she'd got into it. Molly found herself explaining all about her father's death when she was a junior doctor and how it had decided her on the road to pathology. She found herself telling him things she never normally would so early into a friendship but he just seemed so open and easy to talk to.

In turn she asked him about the village gossip and soon heard that although Hugh Bennett was married to Lily's mum village rumour had it that he'd long been having an affair with Meredith, the pub owner.

'So why didn't he marry her?' Asked a confused Molly when she heard the affair had been going on for years.

Adrian shrugged. 'Dunno. Meredith's fiercely independent, can't see her being anyone's wife. Maybe he married Mel to spite her but then couldn't resist getting drawn back in. He's not the only one having an affair.'

He looked sideways at Molly and smiled. 'You'd be amazed how many of the "straight" men of the village have come to me for sex.' He air quoted as he spoke and laughed at the shock on Molly's face.

'They all swear blind they're not gay, just experimenting you know, or they had too much to drink. But they always come back for more. I've had some nice trinkets bought for me along the way.' He held up his wrist to show off the expensive Tag Heuer watch he was wearing and wiggled the finger bedecked with a gold signet ring.

Eventually they made their way back to the pub; Molly asked about the families in the village and whether they were all local or if there were any newcomers. 'Lily's about the newest. Before that it that it was probably the Sladens they moved into Almsbury Manor about thirty years ago. Current Lord Sladen is proper old school gay! And no, before you ask I haven't, he's ancient. Well sixties at least, too old for me. I do have some standards, though not many.' He smirked and winked and Molly laughed. She was enjoying her day out with Adrian; he was a breath of fresh air, all happy and funny, making the most of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not much Sherlock in this one but I'll make up for it soon I promise...but he had a lot on his mind, poor lamb. What do you think, should he or shouldn't he make a move on Molly? Hmm now I wonder what you'll all say?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to a bit more Sherlock. I miss him when he's not in the chapter much. Have a good week xxx

Sherlock was sat outside the pub with a pint when they got back. Molly joined him and after ordering a drink she filled him in on the events of her day. Sherlock was particularly interested in the burial mounds and the possibility of underground tunnels. 

Molly was a little horrified. 'You don't think they're keeping the poor girl underground somewhere do you?'

Sherlock looked unperturbed. 'Well, it would make sense, it would be an ideal hiding place. I can do some research online to see if there are any maps of the area showing the tunnels. Maybe we can check some of them out tomorrow.'

She also told him the gossip about Hugh Bennett and Meredith and the fact that there were some men in the village leading double lives. 

'Unsurprising, you'd be amazed how many people seem to carry on extra-marital affairs with either the opposite or their own sex. Not many seem to actually believe in their vows. I don't know why people even bother with marriage, it seems to be purely for show and legality.'

Molly couldn't help but feel sad at Sherlock's views towards his fellow man but maybe sometimes his ability to deduce people wasn't such a good thing. It meant all he ever saw was the bad in people, the things they tried to cover up and didn't want others to see. Molly always tried to see the good in people. She couldn't help but feel positive and hopeful about life.

They soon went into the pub as the rain, which had threatened all day, started to fall. Their meal passed off uneventfully and Sherlock actually ate which was a novelty. It seemed even he had to succumb to his bodies needs every so often. She wondered if that was the same when it came to sex but she was too embarrassed to ask him. He wouldn't be likely to tell her anyway, 'oh yes Molly I masturbate twice a week, thank you for asking.' She couldn't help but giggle a little at the thought and Sherlock looked up from his salmon with a questioning eye. 

They ended up retiring to their respective rooms quite early. Sherlock was liaising with Greg and wanted to catch up on various lines of enquiry as well as researching the tunnels. Molly had asked if there were anything she could do but he'd been quite dismissive.

It was only when she was back in her room that she remembered the strange feeling she'd had earlier in the day. That sense of being watched. She tried to ignore it and put it down to her just being overly sensitive but after she'd showered and changed for bed it kept playing around at the back of her mind. It didn't help that the lamp cast strange shadows in the corners of the room and the drumming of the rain on the roof and window added to her feeling of foreboding. Twice Molly thought she saw something move out of the corner of her eye, her heart racing each time.

When she finally turned out the light and lay there in the dark all she did was lie rigidly in the bed listening to the rain coupled with the creaks and groans of the old building. She found herself jumping in fright at each and every one. She started to recite medical terminology to herself to take her mind off it but was distracted when she felt an icy breath of air on the back of her neck. She sat bolt upright scrabbling to switch on the light feeling as though her heart was trying to leap up into her throat. She looked around just in time to see what looked like a dark amorphous shape melt into the shadow.

She sat for a moment contemplating what to do, almost rocking with fear. All of Adrian's tales of demons and witches and death flooding into her mind making her more and more scared. She tried to reason with herself and tell herself that it was all in her imagination but when she turned out the light within minutes she swore she felt fingers slide over her skin and a cold, clammy hand gripped her ankle briefly. She pulled her foot away and tried to scream but the terror seemed to rob her of sound. This time when she put the light on she didn't hesitate. She just picked up her dressing gown and left the room.

She tapped lightly on Sherlock's door hoping he was still awake; closing her eyes briefly to give a thank you to the gods as she heard him moving to unlock it. As soon as he did she was over the threshold and had her arms wrapped around his waist needing to feel something solid and warm and real. 

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she muttered as she held onto him. Gradually she felt his hands come up taking hold of the tops of her arms. He hesitantly moved away from her looking into her eyes with concern. 'What's wrong Molly? What's happened?' He looked over her shoulder into the corridor as if wondering whether something or someone was following her.

'Nothing, it's me, I'm being stupid.' Molly moved away and sat down on the edge of his bed as he moved to close the bedroom door. It was only then that she noticed he was dressed for bed in a t shirt and pyjama trousers. If it had been any other time she would have been filing that image away in her memory banks but she was still too freaked out to care.

He sat next to her. 'It's not like you to be stupid, well no more than most people anyway. What happened?'

Now she was with him she was starting to feel a little ridiculous, there was no way Sherlock was going to take her fears seriously. If the roles had been reversed she knew what her own reaction would have been but she also knew there was no way she was going back into that bedroom tonight.

She tried to tell him as clearly as she could but she could tell by his expression that he was getting exasperated. In the end she played a low card; the only ace she had. 'You said once, many years ago, that you trusted me, that you'd always trusted me. Well prove it, trust me now when I say there is something weird going on. But please, please don't make me go back into that room.'

He was silent for a moment assessing her before he relented. 'Fine you can sleep in here with me. We're both adults, I'm sure we can be respectful of each other.'

Molly tried to crack a smile. 'Is that your way of telling me to keep my hands to myself.'

He followed her lead at trying to lighten the atmosphere and countered with. 'You never know I might be the one with the roving hands in the night.'

This time when she settled down to sleep the only thing keeping her awake was the knowledge that Sherlock was lying less than a foot from her. She felt safe and secure but also hyper aware of his breathing and movements in the bed. He fell asleep quite quickly and she listened to his breathing, feeling him next to her in the bed. She almost had to clench her hands to stop herself from reaching out for him. Images of him stood in his pyjamas now came into her mind tormenting her and making her bite her lip and squeeze her eyes shut trying to calm her breathing. 

In the end though she did fall asleep and when she awoke in the morning it was to an empty bed. Looked like Sherlock had awoke before her and fled rather than face some awkward pillow talk. For that she was a little grateful, she wasn't sure she would really have been up for that either.

When she went back into her room to change for breakfast her fears from the night before seemed a bit daft; she hoped she would feel a bit more comfortable in the night to come. After all she'd slept in here fine the first night, maybe she just needed a few extra drinks to take her mind off it.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly found Sherlock drinking his coffee in the morning sun; sat in the beer garden attached to the pub. She ate lighter this time just choosing cereal and croissants whilst finding out Sherlock's plans for the day. He had only found vague references to the possible tunnels and was waiting for a call back from Lestrade to see if his team had been able to find out more. Nevertheless, he was planning on the two of them exploring some of the burial chambers to see if they could uncover anything.

Molly couldn't help but frown a little at his outfit which unsurprisingly was spotted by Sherlock. 'Do you have a problem with what I'm wearing Molly?' He asked, looking down at himself as if he might discover something untoward.

'Well, no, not really...'

'But?' He raised an eyebrow.

'Well, a suit doesn't seem the best outfit for tramping around fields and mucking around in a burial mound.'

'As I'm not planning on "mucking around" as you so delightfully put it I'm sure I'll be fine. Have you not finished eating yet?'

Molly rolled her eyes but picked up her croissant to eat on the go.

It didn't help that fifteen minutes into their walk the heavens opened effectively drowning the two of them. They ran the last five minutes and ducked into the grass covered entrance of the first mound they saw. Sherlock flicked on his torch and shone it around the small enclosed space. The tunnel into the mound was about six feet long and then opened out into a larger domed space about fifteen feet in diameter. It was completely empty though having long since been ransacked of both bodies and any valuables that might have been left with them.

Sherlock stamped about trying to see if there were any points on the floor with a different resonance but they came up blank, he moved on into the adjoining second chamber whilst Molly was still looking at some carvings, taking the light source with him. Almost immediately Molly felt the air sticking in her throat, it was as though she couldn't breathe. The darkness consumed her and all she could feel was the weight of all the stone and earth pressing down on her. She had always suffered from claustrophobia as a child but it had been years since it had affected her this much. A cold trickle of numbing fear slid down her spine.

She couldn't even call out to Sherlock, all she could do was close her eyes, her hands against the cool stone for stability and try to concentrate on just breathing. A moment later Sherlock was back complaining that there were no entrances or exits that he could find. The crushing sensation lifted as soon as his torch light flashed across her and she kept her face turned from him not wanting him to see how badly affected she had been. Last night had been embarrassing enough without him thinking she was scared of the dark and claustrophobic as well.

It was the same disappointment for Sherlock in the next four mounds that they visited, though Molly made sure to stick a little closer to him and not get left alone. He was getting increasingly grumpy but Molly was saved by the bell when his phone rang.

'What have you found?' Was Sherlock's curt answer. He listened for a few minutes, barked a couple of instructions and then hung up.

Molly couldn't help but chime in. 'You know it wouldn't hurt once in a while to say please or thank you.'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. 'Will it save Lily's life if I say my Ps and Qs? No, I don't think so, if it's not relevant to the case, it's not important.' He turned away as though the conversation were ended but Molly persisted.

'Maybe it's not relevant to the case but it's important to the people you need help from. If you treat them like dirt the day may come when they don't help or don't act as fast when you call, then that could jeopardise your cases. Anyhow, didn't your parents bring you up better than that...what would your mum say?'

Sherlock just grunted but led them back out into the fresh air. At least this time it had stopped raining. 

'Lestrade says there may be some connection to the passageways from the church in the village. He's making contact with the vicar to ask him to meet us there. Apparently there is a crypt below the church which may help us.' 

He ploughed on ahead with Molly half running to keep up. Life with Sherlock was certainly keeping her fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands up who wanted sexy times from them sharing a bed together. Well, can't move things along too fast. It's not called a slow-burn story for nothing. Patience ;).
> 
> I know I said I’d try to post two at a time but I’ve only had time to edit one chapter today. I’ll try and post the next tomorrow xx


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we will start upping the action very soon. I think it's about time we started getting to the heart of the story don't you. Thanks for bearing with me through all the buildup, hope you're still enjoying it.

It didn't take them too long to make their way back into the village and round to the small parish church. It was an oddity in this day and age for a village to have their own vicar but there he stood in the doorway waiting for them. He looked to be mid-fifties and dressed just as you would expect a village priest too with black shirt, dog collar and his hands in the pockets of a warm looking woollen cardigan. As they opened the gate into the graveyard he came forward to greet them looking a little pensive.

'Mr Holmes? I'm Rev David Tucker, I received a call from a Detective Inspector at Scotland Yard, he said you wanted to look around the church. Is that right?'

Sherlock shook his hand, introduced Molly and confirmed he was correct. The vicar turned back and walked them to the church.

'St Mary's has been the parish church here for over six hundred years. It's a fine old building, though the original stain glass windows were sadly destroyed during the reformation. Was there any part in particular you wanted to see? The police officer was quite vague?'

Sherlock glanced around as they entered only seeming to reply absent-mindedly. 'The crypt or any cellars the building might have.'

He didn't follow the vicar however but made his way slowly down the aisle towards the alter checking in the pews to the left and right as they went.

Molly came and stood next to the vicar who was watching him still looking slightly worried.

'Don't mind him, he gets quite focused on his work. It's a lovely building, have you been the vicar here for long?'

He turned to her and smiled. 'Nearly thirty years now, I don't know where the time has gone. I was in my early twenties when I came back here. Can I ask what it is that you're looking for?'

He started forwards nervously as he saw Sherlock walking around the altar. 'Please, can I ask you not to go up there. It's a little disrespectful.'

Sherlock looked up and moved away.

'Of course,' he said as he put his hands in the pockets of his coat but Molly was sure she had seen him pick something up.

The vicar led them to a door hidden behind the church organ. As they went through he led them past the back of the organ and he explained the origins of the pump organ and how in the past it had been powered by a man pumping bellows by hand.

'Of course, nowadays it's been converted to be run electronically but,' he pondered to himself. 'I often wonder if the sound is quite the same'.

Another door was opened and a small wooden staircase led them down into the old cellar. It was obviously only used for storage nowadays and there were stacks of chairs and bags of items for jumble sales filling the space.

It was soon apparent that there were no other exit points in the cellar, no hidden doors in the walls or trap doors in the floor. The only thing which caught Sherlock's interest was a symbol which had been scratched into the stonework on one of the ceiling lintels. It looked as though it had been there for hundreds of years and was very worn. Sherlock took a photo and asked the vicar if he knew anything about it but he had no information at all, had never paid much attention to it.

As they came back out of the cellar Sherlock suddenly asked. 'You said earlier that you had come back here, does that mean you grew up here?'

Molly saw the priest jump slightly. 'I...er..yes. My family come from the village. I left home at eighteen to go to University, seek out the bright lights...you know that kind of thing. Trouble is there's no place like home so when I entered the priesthood and this living came up I couldn't resist. Is there anything else you need to see? You still haven't mentioned what it is you're looking for.'

Sherlock declined to answer and Molly followed his lead just smiling apologetically at the concerned vicar. Sherlock walked up the side aisles ducking every so often to look under the pews but in the end Sherlock thanked the priest for his time and after a brief look in the vestry and choir changing rooms they left.

The sun was now shining in earnest and Molly took off her jacket as they made their way back to the pub.

'So what did you take from the alter?' She asked, once she was sure they were out of earshot.

Sherlock glanced at her and smiled. 'You noticed that. Well done.' He put his hand in his pocket and took out his handkerchief which he carefully unwrapped until he was able to show Molly a small blob of black wax.

'Wax from a black candle. Not good in a church, black candles are often used in Black Masses and never in a normal Christian service. It would seem our vicar is very much part of whatever is going on here and the church itself has been used for some of their ceremonies. Not surprising, many cults believe there is great power in subverting Christian symbols and places of worship. Plus he was afraid, very afraid. He covered it well but he was clearly unhappy about us being there and was hiding something...probably this and his involvement.'

Molly was more than a little shocked. She had taken him purely at face value, that of being a middle aged and kindly vicar, just like the ones she'd known in her childhood when her mum had taken her to church. Her family hadn't been overly religious but in a small community it had still been the thing to do on a Sunday morning.

Sherlock also took out his iPhone and showed Molly the photograph that he had taken of the glyph in the basement.

'Plus there’s this. It looks as though the Satanism in this church and village is nothing new but rather deeply ingrained. This is a Brimstone Sigel, a sign of the church of Satan. Whatever we're dealing with goes deep into the roots and history of this whole place. We need to be careful Molly; we don't know who we can trust here.'

Molly shivered even with the heat of the recently appeared sun on her face. The church graveyard suddenly felt oppressive even though being close to the dead normally gave her a sense of calmness. It was as if everything she knew in her life was being turned on its head in this place. Sherlock seemed like her only touchstone to normality and as they made their way back to the pub she couldn't help but walk a little closer to him, needing to feel him nearby.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_He watched them from the shade of the yew tree in the graveyard. Who the fuck did they think they were coming into his patch and stirring up trouble? He'd been watching them for the last couple of days asking all their questions, investigating that sweet, young bitch's disappearance._

_Oh he knew who this guy was. He'd read all about Sherlock “fucking” Holmes and his deductive super powers. Well, he wasn't going to be able to rely upon them here. They had so much more on their side than simple human observation. As for that pathetic lap dog wandering around behind him desperately lapping up any crumb she could find.... well, let’s just say she was giving him ideas._

_They could do with a run through, a build-up of dark energy; make sure everything was perfect for the big night. He didn't want anything to go wrong so maybe scaring them and showing them who's boss could kill two birds with one stone._

_It would be oh so simple.... only a little planning required..._

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly ordered herself a third drink at the bar. She knew she was maybe drinking a bit more than she ought but she didn't want to end up in Sherlock's bed again. At least she did but not because she was too scared to sleep in her own bed.

She groaned, shaking her head and trying not to think of Sherlock in his pyjamas.

'Oh oh, looks like someone's drinking to forget. Did something happen between you and Mister Adonis last night?'

Molly looked up to see Adrian smiling widely at her as he placed her next drink on the bar. She took a soothing sip and rolled her eyes.

'I wish. No absolutely nothing happened. I don't think he even notices I'm a woman, at least not like that.'

'You know what you should do. You should just show up in his bedroom butt naked. That'd get his attention, bet he wouldn't be able to resist you then.'

Molly raised her eyebrows, thinking back to something she remembered John saying about Sherlock's first meeting with Ms Adler. 'Don’t you believe it, I'm sure he could.'

Adrian leant on the bar resting his chin on his hand and looked over at Sherlock who was doing something with his phone.

'It just doesn't seem right that someone that hot should not put out. Surely it's a crime against humanity or something. I can just imagine him all naked and sweaty.'

Molly drank some more of her drink aware of a nice warm fuzzy glow as she followed Adrian's lead and stared over, watching those beautiful long fingers dancing over the keyboard.

'God, could you imagine what he could do with his hands?' She sighed, hearing Adrian doing the same.

'He's got big feet as well.'

Molly looked at Adrian quizzically. 'Big feet? What, have you got a foot fetish?'

Adrian screwed his face up. 'No....well....maybe just a little,' he grinned. 'No, you must have heard the saying...big feet equals big cock!'  
Molly blushed and snorted with laughter causing Sherlock to glance up at them briefly. He narrowed his eyes as he looked from one to the other. They had both turned away but Molly knew that it would have been just a little too late.

Adrian whispered. 'It's as though he's undressing me with his eyes when he does that. Is that his deducing look coz if it is he can deduce me anytime he likes!'

Molly couldn't quite agree with him here; she'd been on the receiving end of Sherlock's scathing deductions too many times to find them not particularly sexy.

'He's quite authoritative at times.' She ventured. 'I'm a feminist so I shouldn't like it but....I have to admit it really turns me on when he bosses me about.'

'Hmm, so we're adding dominant in the bedroom to his list of attributes, it's just getting longer and longer isn't it. We have so got to get him in your bed. He looks like he needs a good shag, he's too buttoned up...oh, which brings me right back to those damned tight shirts.' Adrian stood up and shook himself as though to wake back up. Just at that moment he was called over to serve some more drinks so Molly made her way back to Sherlock.

'Should I feel violated Molly? Or were you and Adrian discussing the make and model of the phone I'm using?'

Molly ducked her head to hide her blush. 'Well, yes I was telling him you quite liked your new iPhone. He's thinking of getting one himself.'

She could feel Sherlock's gaze on her even though she didn't dare look up, she just concentrated on her drink instead.

A disbelieving 'hmm' was all she got from him causing her to stifle a giggle. Her wine was going down really easily tonight though and by the time she made her way up to bed she was feeling both exhausted and very disoriented. She had little memory of making it to bed and when she did she fell asleep immediately without any fears or ghostly interruptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be back later in the week with the next chapter and things when things start hotting up but for all the wrong reasons....


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a slightly darker more angsty chapter and there are trigger warnings for non-consensual sex. I wanted to make it clear though that there won't be a lot of this throughout the story and all references in this chapter are in flashback.
> 
> By the way, thank you for all your reviews and comments and kudos. I’m so glad you're enjoying it so far.

Molly woke up the next day feeling hellishly groggy and hung over. The sun shining through the curtains seemed to burn into her eyes and she groaned as she flung her arm over her face. Weird snippets of her dreams came back to her adding to her discomfort. Not for the first time she'd dreamt of Sherlock but this was just downright odd, not her normal sort of dream. She'd been shackled to a bed in some kind of underground cave, no doubt inspired by their trip round the burial mounds the day before.

They hadn't been alone, surrounding them had been half a dozen people wearing cloaks and masks watching and chanting. Molly felt embarrassed just thinking about it, she was obviously getting too invested in this case for it to seep into her sub-conscious like this. She'd been naked as had Sherlock and she had been lying on the bed, holding onto the chains at her wrist whilst squirming with desire, trying to rub her legs together to gain some kind of friction. He'd looked just as turned on, his erection jutting out in front of him as he was held by two of the onlookers. 

When they'd let him go he'd come straight to her, if she closed her eyes she could almost feel him climbing on top of her and roughly pushing her knees apart before he'd just thrust straight into her without any kind of foreplay or preamble. Not that she'd minded, she'd wanted it, wanted him and in her dream she hadn't cared who was watching. All that mattered was that he was fucking her and helping her reach her release. 

She threw the covers off herself and padded into the en suite. She needed a shower, she'd made herself feel a bit grubby. She'd never had quite such a kinky imagination before.

She had to admit she felt much better after her shower. She left her hair down, to dry naturally and went in search of some coffee and maybe an aspirin or two. At least the extra drinks had done the trick of stopping her feeling scared at night, though maybe she could have done with one or two less, she couldn't even remember going to bed that clearly.

For once, it appeared she'd beaten Sherlock to breakfast. It gave her a chance to eat more leisurely and read a paper whilst she sipped at her tea. He appeared just as she was finishing her second cup and she was surprised by how dishevelled he looked.

'Hi, didn't you sleep well, you look...umm..rough?'

He sat down opposite her, scanning her face, and she could tell he was trying to deduce her. 

'What's up?'

'How did you sleep Molly? Any bad dreams at all?'

Molly blushed remembering her sex fantasies of him; he wouldn't be able to tell that...would he?

'Not bad, just....weird, strange. Why?'

He suddenly reached for her hand and pulled it towards him whilst she frowned and watched, wondering what he was up too. He turned her wrist over and his thumb grazed across a slight red mark that Molly hadn't spotted before. Then he reached up and moved her hair away from her neck and tugged on the collar of her t-shirt to pull it down slightly. Whatever he saw made him push the chair back so harshly it fell over. He seemed to stagger backwards before turning and almost running out of the door to the garden at the back of the pub.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock felt as if all the air in his lungs had been removed. He stopped on the path outside of the pub and leant over with his hands on his knees trying to breathe but his head swam and he thought for a moment that he might even be sick.

He hadn't wanted to believe it was true but deep down from the moment he'd awoken he'd known it was. He had been a drug addict for long enough to know the after effects. 

His mind swam with images; Molly lying on a makeshift bed, chains at her wrists pulling on them and staring at him with eyes so full of lust. He could remember how painfully hard he had been, it had been overwhelming. Whatever he...no they had been given had been mind-altering as well as acting as some kind of powerful aphrodisiac. He remembered the aching, desperate need that he had felt for her. He hadn't wanted to be kept away and felt euphoric when those holding him had let him go. Immediately he had gone to her; feeling her under him, how good it had felt to thrust into her as she held onto her chains urging him on.

Even in the midst of it all though he must have had some doubt in his mind that it might not be the dream that it seemed to be. He'd bent his head to her neck and at the same time as he fucked her he had marked her, sucking on her skin until it was red and bruised. 

He had hoped beyond hope when he came down to breakfast that that mark wouldn't be there...but it had been.

'Sherlock...are you OK? What's the matter?'

He felt her hands on his back and shoulders guiding him back until he could sit on the edge of one of the benches dotted around the beer garden at the back of the pub. Molly perched herself next to him and he could barely look at her, how could he tell her that he had effectively raped her?

'Please, Sherlock, I've never seen you like this. Please tell me what's wrong?'

She put her hand to his cheek trying to turn his face towards her but he leant back, pulling himself out of her grasp. He needed to get control of himself, this wasn't helping anyone.

He took a couple of shuddering breaths and when he felt his heart rate starting to lower he spoke. 

'It wasn't a dream Molly, none of it. We must have been drugged, I have a few ideas what it was but we'll need to take blood tests to be sure.'

He finally glanced at her to find her looking at him in complete confusion. 'What wasn't a dream?' But she spoke quietly as though she didn't really want to hear his answer.

He flattened his lips together, before forcing himself to go on. 

'You, me, last night. We....I....I raped you. God, Molly I am so sorry. I should have done something; I should have realised...or tried harder...'

She pulled away from him at that and sat there, with her hands suddenly useless in her lap, and he saw the blood actually drain from her horrified face as she stared at the ground trying to take in what he had just said.

'Please say something Molly. Do you understand what I'm telling you?'

She shook her head slowly from side to side. 'No...no...you're wrong. I'd know...I...' 

She caught sight of the red mark across her wrists and held her hands up turning them over and back again. Then she put her hand to her neck, to the site of his mark. 'What's on my neck?' Her voice was barely a whisper. 

'A mark, a love bite, I did it. I think I was trying to prove to myself that it wasn't real but I ended up proving that it was.'

Molly was reeling. Her emotions felt almost numb as though she couldn't take in what her brain knew to be true. She'd had sex with Sherlock, but in the most horrific and humiliating circumstances. The trouble was all she could remember clearly was how good it had felt, how much she had wanted him.....what did that say about her? She should be feeling disgusted....and she was but not with him, with the people who had done this to them.

She suddenly became aware that he was sat with his head in his hands; he'd said that he'd raped her but that wasn't true.

She reached for his hand pulling it from his face and holding it in her own much smaller one. 

'It's OK Sherlock.....this....' She gulped trying to find the words. '...this is not your fault. You are just as much of a victim in this as I am. You are not to blame.'

Now it was his turn to shake his head. 'But I was unrestrained, I obviously knew something wasn't right which was why I gave you that love bite, I should have done more, I should have fought them.'

'No, you can't think like that. We need to use this, we need to get the people who did this to us… who could do this to Lily. This is evidence, you can use it. I...um...I remember the ceiling, it was rough...stone...like some kind of underground cavern...' 

She swallowed heavily and Sherlock could see how much effort this was costing her. 

'They had brown robes, heavy wool. I'm sure one of them was a woman, I saw long hair...blond.'

Her determination gave him the strength to do the same, he listened to her recounting any bits of information she could remember and he added to it his own recollections. He felt sure that with a geological map they would be able to narrow down where this cavern could potentially be. He also wanted to confirm his suspicions regarding the drugs they'd had used on them. Action and control made him feel better than any apology or sentiment. 

'We need to report this to Lestrade.' 

He ploughed on when he saw Molly blanch and shake her head. 'Molly, it's a crime, we have to. He'll be discreet, no one else need know. He'll be able to link us up with a facility to help us take blood samples.' 

He took out his phone and started dialling. Molly stood quickly.

'I...I just need a moment before we leave.' 

He stood with her, his phone forgotten momentarily. He put up his hand towards her but stopped before he touched her letting it fall back down again. 

'Are you OK? Is there anything I can do?'

She tried to smile to reassure him but it felt and looked forced. 

'I just need to go back to my room. I'll be back down soon. You talk to Greg but I don't want to hear it.'

She turned and walked away leaving Sherlock staring helplessly after her.

Back in her room she sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. All the same images and feelings came roaring back. She could taste him; feel his skin sliding against hers but underlying it all now was a sense of utter humiliation. Who had been there watching them? Who had drugged them? They must have taken her from this very room. She looked around nervously as though she might find them still there.

A single choked sob escaped her and she bit the back of her hand willing herself not to give in to her feelings. She needed to stay strong, to help Sherlock solve it. She needed to feel anger rather than despair. It just seemed like the worst kind of trick though that the one thing she had wanted so desperately had been granted to her but in such horrific circumstances.

In the end she washed her face in the small sink in the en suite and looked herself square in the eye in the mirror before making her way back downstairs.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

They ended up taking a cab just over twenty miles to the nearest hospital, one which supported the local police. Lestrade had called ahead to help gain them access to any equipment they required. It felt good to be back in a lab. 

As they waited for a toxicology report on their bloods Sherlock decided to raise something with Molly that he was sure would not be well received. 

'Molly I think you should go back to London.'

Her head swung round in shock. 'What? No!'

'Yes....Molly it's clearly not safe for you. I don't need you here. You'll just be a distraction to me.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really interested to know what you think of this development....and what do you reckon, should Molly go home?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was a 100% consensus that Molly should stay....and well, of course she should. It wouldn't be much of a Sherlolly fic without her ;). Thank you for all your comments; I'm glad you're finding the new turn of events intriguing, I hope their reactions to it are realistic. Anyway, on with the story.

As he saw her jaw tighten he knew it was a lost cause. 

'Sherlock Holmes if you think I am going to leave you alone with this you've got another thing coming. If it's not safe for me then it's just as not safe for you. Are you going back to London? No, I didn't think so, so neither am I.'

He couldn't help but be a little impressed with her outburst. His lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile but she saw and after initially frowning she couldn't help but smile in return. 

'Fine, you can stay, but we need to take precautions. We'll eat somewhere else this evening and make sure anything we drink is sealed, water....or wine...whatever we can be certain hasn't been tampered with.'

He continued. 'I suspect the drugs were administered in our drinks, can you remember them being left at all or seeing anybody near them...anything like that?'

Molly gave it some thought before she recollected ordering one set of drinks from Adrian then nipping to the loo whilst he was serving them. When she'd got back they were waiting for her on the bar. 

She recalled the event for Sherlock adding. 'Adrian was busy serving others when I got back, it could have been anybody in the bar last night.' 

As far as Molly could make out half of the village had been there. She'd even seen the vicar at one-point sipping on a pint and chatting to a man whom Sherlock had informed her was Lord Sladen.

The results of the blood tests gave Molly some peace of mind; neither her nor Sherlock had any STDs of any kind and as she was on the pill at least she didn't have to worry about a pregnancy scare. The tests also gave Sherlock some extra lines of enquiry to follow up. None of the drugs were easily available so he wanted to check local pharmacies and doctors although nowadays people could order almost anything online and have it delivered to their home. 

They went round the shops and surgeries local to the village with Sherlock flashing a badge which looked suspiciously like Lestrades in order to get people to talk but it once again came to nothing. Molly could tell that Sherlock was getting increasingly frustrated and in the end they agreed to go back to the pub so he could spend some time in his mind palace. Molly picked up some chips on the way and decided to eat in her room to give him some time alone. 

It didn't help that there was a certain awkward politeness that seemed to exist between them now. Sherlock was being unnaturally nice to her and it just didn't feel right. She knew that he was still blaming himself to some extent for what had happened. But since their initial conversation neither of them had really talked about it or how they felt.

Molly sat in her room with every light switched on trying to tell herself that she was OK and that she was safe as she absentmindedly picked at the chips. Flashbacks from the night before still haunting her as they had all day. She was angry...angry with whoever had done this to them, forcing them to degrade themselves for others entertainment. And underneath it all Molly was disgusted with herself for having enjoyed it, for still feeling turned on when she recalled the feel of him moving against her, his hands on her skin, his mouth on her mouth. She knew this reaction was only partly the drugs. It had fulfilled a long held desire that she'd had for years now.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH 

Molly would have been most surprised if she had realised that Sherlock was similarly troubled. He'd entered his mind palace with the express purpose of cataloguing all the information they had gathered, trying to make sure he explored any gaps and came up with a plan of action for the following day. Time was running out and he hadn't made as much progress as he would have liked. 

The problem was when he closed his eyes and relaxed all he saw was Molly lying naked in front of him. He groaned and wiped a hand across his face before resettling and trying again. It was after ten minutes or so that he realised his thoughts had moved away from the case and he was in Molly's room within his mind palace recalling the noises she had made as she had come, filing away how she had called out his name and recollecting the taste and the smell of her. He didn't need to open his eyes and look to know that he was hard just thinking about it. A wave of guilt washed over him, he had violated her in the most brutal way possible and what...now he was going to get off on it. No! 

He sat up suddenly, breaking himself out of his meditation. He picked up the bottled water from the bedside cabinet and took a deep cleansing draft. He was also furious with himself at been outmanoeuvred. He hated to lose and he was more determined than ever to identify the ring leader. Someone in this village was toying with them and Sherlock would find out who it was and....he slid the top drawer of the chest of drawers open and moved his shirts to one side checking once again that John's gun was still there. Molly didn't know he had it but he'd felt they needed it for protection, not that it had done them much good last night. They could fool him once but it would not happen again. He would keep Molly safe now, no matter what the cost was.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH 

Molly eventually turned her light out just after eleven and listened to the noises in the bar below, the muffled chatter and laughter. It was no good though! Within about fifteen minutes she knew there was no way that she would be able to sleep alone. She didn't care how awkward it was she needed to be with him, she just didn't feel safe in here on her own.

She tapped on his door and he opened it looking equally tired and disturbed. Neither of them said a word as he opened the door further so she could come in. Words just weren't needed.

Molly climbed into his bed and when he joined her he put his arm around her waist holding her against him, her back to his chest. This time when the light was turned out they were both asleep within moments. 

In the morning Molly awoke just as Sherlock re-entered the bedroom. She rolled over rubbing her eyes and yawning to see him drying his hair with one towel with another slung around his waist, obviously having just had a shower or bath.

She was about to say something when he slung the towel he'd used on his hair onto the bed and took the towel from his waist to dry his body.

For a moment Molly's eyes were glued to his naked form, possible as wide as saucers before she yelled and rolled away, quickly sitting up on the other side of the bed.

'Sherlock!' She said remonstratively.

'What.... oh Molly you're not going to be prudish? We may have been drugged but it didn't affect my memory of events. You've already seen me naked as have I you.'

Molly blushed. 'Maybe so but, but....that doesn't make us....oh, I don't know.....this familiar with each other. She stood up and shielding her eyes she scooted round the bed towards the door. She hesitated as she saw his naked feet come into view knowing she'd have to get past him to exit the room. But given there was not much space she wasn't sure how to do it without brushing up against him.

He sighed and rewrapped the towel around his waist. 'Happy now?'

She dropped her hand and raised her eyebrows. 'Yes, thank you. I'll see you in a few minutes for breakfast.....' She looked at him suddenly nervous. 'That should be OK shouldn't it? Breakfast? I mean, no one would drug that, would they?'

'Yes it should be fine. I'll order your usual should I?'

She nodded and thanked him before leaving; looked like polite and nice Sherlock was still in existence. Trouble was she now had a new set of naked images invading her head and these ones felt so much more real. Did he really feel that comfortable around her now? She swore she would never understand that man.

Breakfast was a fairly rushed event, neither of them feeling one hundred percent at ease in the pub anymore. Sherlock wanted them to go up to the local 'big house' and talk to Lord Sladen. He'd been investigating him online as well as through Mycroft and he had his suspicions that he might be the ring leader in all this.

The weather was once again dark and ominously overcast but they made it to the Manor House without getting wet. It must have been built about three hundred years ago from the architecture and would have belonged to the local Lord. Sherlock explained, however, that it had only been in the Sladen family for about thirty years. His father had bought it and the current Lord Sladen had inherited it on his father's death about fifteen years ago.

Sherlock rang the bell and waited, a few moments later the door was opened by a strict looking middle aged woman, she looked like some kind of housekeeper to Molly, especially given Adrian's comments about Lord Sladen's sexuality.

'Yes?'

'Sherlock Holmes to see Lord Sladen.' He handed over his card.

She glanced at it briefly before barking. 'Do you have an appointment?'

'No, but if you mention my name and tell him my brother Mycroft sends his compliments I'm sure he'll see me.'

She pursed her lips and sighed but opened the door to let them in. 'If you'll just wait here.' 

She left them in the impressive hallway as she went through a set of double doors on the left.

Molly looked around at the old fashioned but monied pictures and furnishings. 'Well, he's not skint then.'

'No, they made their money in coal mining over the last one hundred years or so and got out before things crashed in the eighties. The title however has been in the family for centuries although for many of the years the family had to live off their name and their wits, the original Sladen estate was sold off in the early eighteen hundreds to pay off debts.'

He turned back around as the housekeeper returned, this time she looked slightly more welcoming. 

'Yes, Lord Sladen will see you now. If you'd like to come this way.'

She led them through a dining room and into what was obviously his study where an elderly, but friendly, gentleman came forward. He looked to Molly like somebody's favourite uncle.

'Mr Holmes? I take it you must be Mycroft's famous younger brother, the detective. What brings you to our neck of the woods and how can I help? Iris, can you bring us some tea and biscuits or cake or something, whatever there is? Sit down, sit down. Now who is this lovely young lady, Mrs Holmes I presume?' He took Molly's hand and kissed the back. Molly blushed and giggled a little at the mis-understanding and the old fashioned charm, he was like something out of the 1920's.

'Erm no, I'm just an acquaintance, Molly Hooper.'

'Well then Molly you are more than welcome, sit down.' He gestured them towards an ancient looking green, leather, studded settee and sat himself in a wing back chair over to the side.

'Lord Sladen...'

'Oh please, call me Jimmy, all my friends do.'

Sherlock grimaced ever so slightly but complied. 'Jimmy, we're here in the village investigating the disappearance of Lily Shepherd.'

Lord Sladen's eyebrows rose in surprise. 'Really, I wouldn't have thought that was worth your while. I heard she'd run off with her boyfriend or some such. She'll turn up again in due course, no doubt about it.'

'I'm not so sure about that. The boyfriend is still around and her mother is convinced that that isn't the case and I agree. Lord Sladen have you ever come across any occultism in the village?'

Molly saw the old man's eyes narrow momentarily before he put a shocked expression on his face.

'What? You mean like witchcraft? Oh my dear fellow we haven't had witches in Almsbury for a few hundred years. I think you're barking up the wrong tree there.'

'And yet you have at least twenty books in your library on just such a subject?' Sherlock waved his hand towards the bookcase on the opposite side of the room.

Lord Sladen laughed. 'Well, I can certainly see how you got your reputation.' 

He broke off for a moment as the tea and biscuits were brought in. 'Thank you Iris.'

As the door shut behind the housekeeper he continued. 'Well, OK I have an interest in spiritualism and the occult. Who wouldn't living in such a place as this, steeped in folklore and history. It doesn't mean any of it is still in practice; at least not that I am aware of. But you never know in these old places, my family are still deemed as new comers and we've been here thirty years; there may well be stuff going on that I don't get to hear about. Now come on, have some tea, biscuit Molly?'

They stayed another twenty minutes but weren't able to get much more information from him. He either knew nothing or was shutting them down.

Sherlock was of the opinion it was the latter although he snorted when Molly asked if he still thought Lord Sladen might be the ring leader. 'Oh I doubt it Molly. He only has a head to stop his ears from flapping together.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That final line was a description of Nigel Bruce's Doctor Watson (opposite Basil Rathbone's Sherlock) though I'm afraid I can't remember who said it. It made me laugh many years ago and I've always remembered it so couldn't resist using it here.


	9. Chapter 9

_He'd watched them as they made their way up to the big house. Looks as though they wanted to interview Sladen, well good luck to them. He might not be the brightest bulb in the box but Sladen knew how to keep his mouth shut. Unlike some. He'd had to put in a call to one of his 'flock’. He had a concern this person was planning on spilling their secrets to this Holmes guy and he'd worked too long and too hard to let that happen._

_Well, maybe it was time he set an example to the rest. He would not tolerate any weakness or disloyalty especially not now, he was so close._

_He also needed to do something about these two. He couldn't believe they were still here after the 'incident' the other night. He closed his eyes remembering the night in question. It had all gone perfectly, from planting the drugs to removing them from their rooms. Watching them rutting together had been such a rush, he'd felt the power from the event soaking through his body. He had been called to this and now he was being rewarded._

_Their continued presence didn't help though and he needed to think of another way to get rid of them._

_He turned and walked away pulling out his mobile._

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Lunch was a quick sandwich from the local shop, which doubled up as a post office. Sherlock had declined anything so Molly was eating as they walked listening to Sherlock throw ideas around. Thankfully the weather had perked up since earlier and Molly was enjoying feeling the sun on her face. It made such a difference to the feel of the small village, making it seem so much more friendly and welcoming. At least that was what she tried to tell herself.

'So what next?' Molly asked between bites.

'There are five days left until Beltane. There must be somebody who has a connection, who knows some of what is going on. Someone must have left their cult or be willing to talk. I want to call on the vicar again. We know he's connected. Maybe we can put some pressure on him; get him to talk.'

Molly looked anxiously at Sherlock. 'What exactly do you mean by pressure?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Oh, don't worry Molly, nothing too illegal. Come on.'

Half an hour later Molly's sandwich was all finished and they were standing in front of a rangy looking Victorian vicarage ringing on the doorbell. There was no answer but that didn't deter Sherlock who turned the door handle to see if it was open. When it didn't budge he started to circle around the house checking the sash windows, pushing to see if any would open.

Molly's eyes were as wide as saucers as she followed him round glancing around them to make sure they weren't being seen.

'Sherlock,' she hissed. 'What are you...we..doing?'

'Calm down Molly, having a quick look around won't hurt anyone. Don't you find this a bit unusual though?'

'What?'

'This, I mean. Look at the place, it's a warm day in a quiet, seemingly crime-free country village and this place is locked down like Fort Knox.'

'Well, maybe he's just security conscious, I know I am. I don't leave windows open when I'm not in.'

'Yes, but you live in London. That's just sensible. Look around at the other houses in the village. People are taking advantage of the good weather to 'air their houses' God knows why but it seems to be a thing. Mrs Hudson is forever flinging open windows for that very reason.'

He'd come to the fence leading to the back of the property and, after jiggling the handle on the gate, Molly was ever hopeful that they could leave but no! A second later and he was using a nearby plant pot to give him a foot up so he could scale the fence and drop down over the other side. A few seconds later the back gate was opened to let Molly through.

He laughed at the expression on her face as she walked through.

'You'll never make a criminal will you Molly. You're looking guilty before we've even done anything.'

He went round to the back door and again tried the handle before checking under nearby pots and bricks to see if a key had been left hidden but there was nothing.

In the end he reached into an inside pocket and brought out a small, flat leather pouch which he unrolled to show a selection of what looked like metal tooth picks. He got to work on the lock ignoring Molly whose blood pressure felt like it was going through the roof.

A click signalled his success and he pushed open the door and made his way through into some sort of utility room. There were muddy boots by the door, an ancient looking washing machine and a pile of clothes obviously waiting to be ironed. They made their way through the kitchen and into a large hallway.

Molly felt all her senses straining, listening for any sound of the vicar returning home. Sherlock honed in on the man's study and spent some time leafing through his papers and checking through the books lining the walls.

'Hmm, it's interesting how many of these books were also in Lord Sladen's collection. There seems to be a running theme of occultism and Satanism. He opened a couple looking to see if there were any notes or inscriptions.

'Now this is interesting.' He held the book out to show Molly. It was entitled Hints to Young Students of Occultism by L.W. Rogers and looked to be fairly old. There was an inscription on the inside leaf in an old fashioned copperplate handwriting **John Hugo Bennett Aug 1937**.

'I'm thinking we have a link to Lily's step-father here though obviously an older relative. Maybe he isn't the innocent in this he's making out to be. That would make sense....he could be the mystery man that Lily refers to in her diary. As her step-father he would have some not inconsiderable influence in her life.'

Sherlock pocketed the book before leaving the room and heading up the stairs. It was when they searched an old wardrobe in one of the spare bedrooms that they found a more telling connection. A familiar brown wool robe which made Molly feel sick to her stomach when Sherlock pulled it out. He'd been there. That kindly looking vicar had been there watching her and Sherlock as they'd...

She sat down on the edge of the unmade bed clutching her stomach. Sherlock glanced at her briefly before laying the robe out on the floor and examining it with his pocket magnifying glass. He took a couple of samples from it, particularly scrapings of dirt from around the hemline before he put it back in the wardrobe. Molly just watched him silently.

After he'd finished he sat next to Molly on the bed keeping a couple of inches between them, his hands clasped between his open legs.

'Are you OK?' He asked as he looked at her.

'No, not really. Seeing that robe...it just makes it seem real somehow. It's all just felt a bit like a dream. I mean, that's what I'd thought it was...just a dream.'

'You always have dreams like that then?' Sherlock smiled, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

'They really did this to us didn't they? They drugged us and stripped us and stood there and watched as we...' Molly couldn't finish, a sob breaking out.

'I promise you Molly. I will find them and I will do whatever I need to, to get you...to get us justice.'

Molly nodded silently wishing she could stop the tears rolling down her face. She knew Sherlock hated shows of emotion. But just then he put his arm around her shoulder and tentatively pulled her towards him, as if he thought she might fight him off at any moment.

Molly shifted over and turned to put her face against his chest. Her silent tears turned to sobs and for the first time she really cried about what had been done to her...to them. Sherlock just held her until they subsided.

'I'm sorry. I just....maybe I just needed that. I'm OK...at least I will be. Can we go now? I'd rather not get arrested for breaking and entering just because my emotional breakdown delayed us.'

'Yes, of course. Come on.'

He led them back out and they exited by the same route they'd come in with Sherlock relocking the back door behind them. Just as he was about to walk away he suddenly glanced round.

Molly followed his gaze around the garden. 'What? What is it?'

He narrowed his eyes for a moment before shaking his head. 'Nothing...nothing. It just felt for a moment like we were being watched.'

Molly had felt like that the whole time they'd been in the house so she was certainly happier as they walked away from it and back into the sunlight.

Sherlock was keen to test the samples that they'd taken from the robes so after a quick call to a local taxi firm they were soon on their way back to the hospital they'd used the day before. As they drove out of the village Molly could almost feel a weight lifting from her shoulders that she hadn't realised was there. This place was playing with her mood and her emotions making her feel paranoid and scared and she didn't like it, but she wouldn't desert Sherlock, he needed her and right now she needed him too. They were stuck in this together.

The soil samples from the robes confirmed that wherever they had been taken was within a ten-mile radius of the village. Their recollection of the stone hewn chamber narrowed it down still further when Sherlock cross referenced it with the geology of the area. It was either central to the village or somewhere to the west but this still didn't help them to work out how they could access this supposed tunnel system.

By the time they got back to the pub it was fairly late. Sherlock asked if she wanted a drink before they retired but she couldn't stand the thought of sitting there looking at the faces of the other patrons and wondering which of them had participated that night, which of them had seen her and Sherlock and done nothing to help them.

'No, I'm going to go up. Is it...do you mind if I sleep in your room again tonight? I just feel safer.'

'Yes, of course. You get to sleep I'll be up in a bit.'

Sherlock watched as Molly made her way up the stairs. He needed to think and he needed a whiskey, maybe even two or three. He went with a common brand though and watched closely as it was served to make sure it was untampered with.

As he sat down in his chair, alone in one corner of the bar, he sighed heavily and rubbed one hand wearily across his face.

He took a soothing sip of his drink and thought back over the last few hours. He'd been fine, keeping everything buttoned up and under control, until that moment that Molly had broken down in the vicarage. When he'd put his arm around her to comfort her he'd felt an overwhelming rush of emotions and he needed to try and understand them.

He'd felt a....protectiveness of her that he'd never really noticed before but now he came to analyse it it had been there within him for such a long time that he could no longer tell when it had begun. His anger at their recent violation had mostly been on Molly's behalf, anger with himself that he hadn't protected her and kept her safe, that she had been hurt and humiliated because of him.

And underneath it all as ever was his sexual attraction to her, made all the more pressing now he had clear memories of how it had felt to be coupled with her, the feel of her soft skin under his hands, his mouth on hers, the taste and the smell of her.

He let out a frustrated sigh. He needed to try to focus, to stay in control. For Lily, for Molly and for himself. He couldn't let him emotional state distract him from what was important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh looks like Sherlock is starting to struggle with the status quo. How long do we reckon he should hold out? Back soon with a new chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock took another drink of his whiskey and shifted in his seat. How in god’s name was he going to cope with another night of Molly in his bed? He felt a sudden, unexpected rush of lust through his body settling in his groin at the memory of her asleep in his bed, her hair spread across the pillow and tickling his shoulder. He'd been so badly tempted to wake her up in an ungentlemanly way. It had taken him everything to get out of that bed and head to the bathroom for a cold shower.

And now....now she was waiting for him upstairs again. 

He went and ordered another drink from the bar, this was a triple whiskey problem. He knew absolutely that if he got in that bed he would be too tempted to make advances towards her and given her upset earlier he felt that that option was unacceptable. She might have accepted advances from him a week ago but not now, everything had been ruined for them since that night. She'd never want to be with him again; he had no doubts that it would just raise bad memories for her.

He could go and sleep in her room instead. That solution sounded the best but left him feeling uncomfortable. Molly was sleeping in his room because HE made her feel safe and secure not the room. It would just be cruel to desert her, she so rarely asked for anything from him he should at least be able to give her the feeling of safety.

In the end he went with the only option left to him. He would spend the night in the room but not in the bed.

He went up, changed in the small bathroom and settled himself in the armchair in the corner of the room. She appeared to be asleep so he didn't say anything just steepled his hands and went into his mind palace. Now he'd solved the initial problem of Molly he was able to concentrate on the events of that day and the information he wanted to add to the case file in his head. He felt a picture starting to form but it was still shadowy, he was missing something vital and couldn't quite pin it down.

About an hour later he came back round and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He must have disturbed Molly because she rolled over and felt for him in the bed, her eyes opening when she realised he wasn't there. It didn't take her long to spot him in the corner, lit by a small and fairly ineffectual lamp at the side of the armchair. 

He smiled, hoping to relax her and whispered. 'Don't mind me, I'll sleep here tonight.'

She sat up in the bed and looked over at him drowsily. 'Don't be ridiculous, you can't sleep in a chair....not all night.'

Sherlock found himself swallowing nervously at the sight of her in his bed, her hair tumbling about her shoulders and over the thin straps of her silky nightdress. The lamplight and the shadows made her look ethereal and even more beautiful than normal. He couldn't help the way he felt about her, especially not since the other night. His mind was suddenly working overtime again trying unsuccessfully to push away the images of her as they'd had sex but it was as though he was becoming obsessed. 

He tried to say something but the room felt hot and oppressive. He saw her throw back the covers and stand up. The nightdress accentuated her petite form and his mouth felt suddenly dry at the sight of her nipples pushing on the thin fabric. He needed to try to regain his control but it felt as though it was spiralling.

'Sherlock, is everything alright? You look flushed.'

'I...please Molly. I'm fine, just...just go back to bed.' He wanted to shift in his seat to try to alleviate in some way the frustration he felt. He was hard and ready for her but he couldn't let her know that, he didn't want her to feel any more vulnerable and violated than she already did. 

He brushed a hand over his face, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to get his erratic breathing under control. When he opened his eyes she was closer and he could see that she knew, knew how much she was affecting him.

'I'm sorry Molly, it's just physical, I...I'm trying to delete that night but..' He stopped in surprise as she slid one knee into the chair at the side of him before straddling him.

'Maybe we don't need to delete it. Maybe we need to replace it with better memories.'

He didn't recall moving his hands but found they were holding her hips tightly feeling her pressing down on him. It was so painfully perfect he didn't dare move. 'We shouldn't...' It came out as barely a whisper and Sherlock knew his body was giving lie to his words.

'Why not? Do you want me?' She rocked against him making him gasp and tighten his grip. She asked again, more urgently. 'Do you want me?'

'Yes...goddamnit...yes, I do.' He let his hands slide up from her hips until they were in her hair and he pulled her to him for a kiss. It started slowly and tentatively before growing in intensity. He felt an almost animalistic desire for her and worried momentarily that they were still being affected in some way by the drugs from the other night but he knew that couldn't be. This was just them, together, with no other interference. 

He felt her pressing up against him, the thin material of her nightdress again doing little to protect her modesty. He could feel her breasts against his chest, the heat of her sex against his groin. Her hands were in his hair twisting and pulling in a way that had him growling into her mouth wanting to devour every part of her. He thrust against her desperate for some friction to ease his aching cock and when he felt her reach down between them he eagerly helped her to release him from the confines of his pyjamas.

There was a moment of stillness where he stared into her warm, brown eyes, seeing his own lust reflected back in them and then slowly she slid her welcome heat down onto him.

He pushed her straps off her shoulders until her nightdress pooled at her waist leaving her chest exposed to him. She rocked against him, eliciting moans and gasps from both of them, and he bent his head to her breast, sucking in her nipple as he palmed the other; his thumb circling and flicking over her, feeling her harden beneath his tongue and his touch.

It wasn't long before he felt her muscles clench around him, heard her crying out his name as her orgasm washed over her but he needed more. 

In a moment he picked her up and within a couple of strides they fell onto the bed this time with him on top of her. He bent to kiss her before thrusting into her, needing to control the pace to reach his own release. He didn't just want to have sex with her, he wanted to consume her. It was as though the frustrations of the last few years and the events of the last couple of days had built him up to a desperate peak of need. But Molly was right there with him, her hands on his backside urging him on, her nails clawing at his back, her mouth on his neck.

He could hear himself repeating her name. 'Oh God...Molly...I want you...I need you...need to feel you...God.'

His muscles were straining and protesting but he was so close, so near...then he felt her come for a second time, felt her muscles tighten and draw his own much needed orgasm from him. With a last desperate thrust he buried himself as far into her as he could, feeling his release pulsing into her.

He sagged against her heavily, gasping for breath and trying to make sense of the feelings rushing through him. He was little versed in understanding his own emotions but he felt overwhelmed, he wanted to hold her, to keep her safe. She was his and he felt a rush of possessiveness and angry jealousy wash over him.

As he came back to himself he could feel her fingers soothingly rubbing his back, light kisses being placed on his neck and shoulder. He needed to move to take his weight off her but it felt as though his body wasn't working, he felt a crippling tiredness coupled with a peacefulness that he couldn't quite recall feeling before. 

In the end he rolled to one side keeping his arm over her waist and his legs tangled with hers. She turned her head to him and he leant forward to kiss her before sleep overtook him. The last thing he remembered was feeling her tugging a cover over them both.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH 

When Molly awoke the next morning it took her a moment to realise where she was and what had taken place. She was still tangled up with Sherlock who was fast asleep. It was only early morning with just the hints of daylight starting to break through the curtains. 

Molly twisted her head a little so she could look at Sherlock as he slept; something she'd never been able to do before. On the last couple of occasions when they'd shared a bed he'd always been the first one awake.

He was, if anything, more beautiful asleep than awake but then she thought maybe it was because she felt more able to look at him. She never really stared at him awake, mainly because it was just something you didn't do but also because she knew she'd never get away with looking at him sneakily like she might have tried if he'd been anyone other than the most observant person on the planet.

She could see the light and shade of his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrow, each individual hair making up the morning stubble in his face. She bit her lip wanting to reach out and trace his features with her finger but wondering what, if anything, the two of them were now. There had been no declarations made, no promises, no mention of feelings. Molly had surprised herself with how forward she had been with him, she'd felt incredibly horny when she'd awoken and her frustration along with the grogginess of sleep had made her act on instinct when she'd seen how aroused he was. That in itself had been surprising let alone the fact that he had reciprocated and not turned her away.

But none of that meant that his views on relationships had changed in any way, maybe they had just been replacing those memories as she had said and when he awoke that would be it, back to being friends. Molly knew exactly how she would feel about that; crushed.

He seemed to stir under the weight of her gaze; his head turning to face hers as he shifted over onto his side more. Gradually he opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he started to focus on Molly lying in his arms. Now was the moment of truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas as to what his reaction will be?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, bit of a mixed bag of a chapter here. We need to tackle the fallout from the night before and then it's time to up the ante on the mystery side. Enjoy!

'Molly...' He sounded almost a little surprised to see her there, a questioning tone in his voice and a confused frown flickering across his face.

She didn't move, not sure what to do or say. All she really wanted to do was kiss him, to feel him moving against her and inside her once more. All the lust she'd felt the previous evening seemed to come flooding back and it was all she could do not to press herself against him. But she held back not quite sure how Sherlock would view the events of the night before in the cold light of day.

It seemed though that Sherlock didn't have any such reservations as he stretched and yawned before pulling Molly back towards him for a kiss. 

She heard and felt him hum with approval as the kiss developed feeling him move over her body, his already hard erection pressing against her hip. She found herself responding, naturally parting her legs for him, her hands sliding up the long length of his naked back. She couldn't quite remember them undressing the night before but they were definitely both naked now and she was glad of it.

Before he could enter her he gripped her hips and suddenly rolled them both so that Molly was on top. She let out a short yelp of shock before looking down at his smirking face. He soon moved his hand to cup her breast and lift his face towards it and Molly moaned loudly as he bit down on her nipple before rolling his tongue around it. 

She rocked herself against him using his erection to stimulate her, he felt so hard and ready for her. She didn't need to say anything or ask his permission she just leant forward and positioned him hearing him utter a deep groan as she stroked him with her hand before sliding down onto him. She held still for a moment letting herself adjust to him being inside her once more; her mind trying to keep up with her body. This was really happening...again!

She started to rock against him and as he continued to toy and play with her breasts with his mouth and hand; his other hand was on her lower back pressing her onto him, guiding her movements. 

She could feel her orgasm starting to build, the feeling of him starting to overwhelm her. She knew she was muttering his name, telling him how good he felt, how big. He broke off from her breast and used his hand to pull her too him for another kiss, his tongue immediately invading her mouth as their movements became more and more frenetic. Molly couldn't think of anything other than Sherlock and the fact that it was him she was with; they were together and it was perfect. She was teetering on the edge desperate to come before he did, feeling his movements starting to take over from her own.

'God, Molly, you feel so good, I need you to come for me. Oh God...' The sound of his voice tipped her over and she climaxed knowing she was calling out his name and not able to stop. She felt him give a final thrust and a shudder as he came; holding onto her so hard she knew she might bruise but not caring; almost wanting it as proof of this happening.

She collapsed onto his chest her head tucked between his neck and his shoulder her lips kissing what skin she could reach. 

'Mmmm, God Molly you can wake me up like that anytime you want!' 

She could feel his hands stroking her back and holding her and Molly didn't want this moment to ever end, but end it must. She slid off his lap and looked round to find a dressing gown or towel so she could go to the bathroom. Sherlock leant up on his elbow watching her moving around the room.

'Hey, just wait a minute.'

Molly pulled the dressing gown round her before looking back round trying not to notice the fact that he was naked but knowing she was blushing anyway. He gazed at her for a moment and flattened his lips together, suddenly looking serious. 'Listen...'

Molly's heart sank in that moment at that one ominous sounding word and she cut him off.

'Umm it's OK. We can talk later, I really need a shower. I'll...I'll see you downstairs for breakfast yeah?' With that she left the room before he could stop her.

She had no desire to go through an “it's not you it's me speech”, she'd been through enough in her life and even delivered a couple. She couldn't face it right now especially not from Sherlock. 

She stood under the water of the shower and knew she was close to crying. Being with him had felt so right, so perfect. Was it better to have slept with him and have it end or would she have felt better if she'd never known how good it could be? She was so caught up in her own thoughts and emotions that she didn't notice the bathroom door being unlocked or the person entering. 

It was only when Sherlock opened the shower door and climbed in next to her that she realised and she almost jumped out of her skin. 'What on earth are you doing?' She asked as she looked up at him in shock.

He pushed his wet hair off his face before cupping hers with both his hands. 'You didn't let me finish. Why did you run away like that?'

'I...umm...I just didn't want to go through a break up speech.'

'Molly, we'd just had sex, I'd just told you I didn't mind waking up like that more often. What on earth made you think I was breaking up with you? And does that mean we're what...going out now?' He glanced to the side grimacing a little, 'I'm not sure I like the sound of that, being a boyfriend sounds so juvenile, how about partner...or lover? Yes, that's better.'

Molly was struggling to keep up but one thing seemed certain he didn't seem to be wanting to end things.

'Listen...I want to be honest with you Molly. I don't think I can offer you love, I'm not sure that's something I'm even capable of; but that being said, I do want to be with you, I think we're good together. I find I enjoy having sex with you and I already know I can spend time with you satisfactorily. I can offer you sex and companionship. Is that enough?'

Molly bit her lip looking up into his earnest face, watching the water from the shower dripping down the sides of his face. Was it enough? What alternative did she even have? She couldn't walk away and even if she did she didn't want anyone else. And who knew what the future might bring, she'd ventured into enough relationships previously before there was any love involved, maybe she could love enough for the two of them.

She smiled and saw the reciprocal relief in his eyes as he realised what her answer would be. She put her hands over his on her face.

'I'm willing to give it a go, after all I think you may have just ruined me for any other men.' 

He smiled in return and bent his head to kiss her.

Molly knew that they had kissed before but it still somehow felt like the first time. No matter what he had just said this kiss felt loving rather than passionate. His lips were soft and pliant against hers, his hands sliding down to her back to hold her against him, hers around his neck playing with the wet strands of his hair. It seemed to last for ages until they both broke apart breathing heavily and smiling almost shyly at each other. 

Sherlock motioned for her to turn around and then proceeded to wash her hair, listening to Molly humming with satisfaction as he massaged her scalp before repeating with the conditioner. He loved feeling the weight of it in his hands the smell of her all around him. He wanted to have sex with her again but he also knew that they needed to concentrate on the case. He couldn't afford to let this become a complication in his life, now he had a taste of a relationship he wanted to make it work for both of them.

Eventually they dried off and made it downstairs to breakfast. The landlady, Meredith raising an eyebrow at catching them holding hands and smiling as they talked.

As they ate Sherlock glanced at his watch. 'Shit, hurry up Molly, we need to be at church in ten minutes.'

Molly almost choked on her toast. 'I'm sorry what?'

'Church Molly, come on.' He stood up and looked at her expectantly.

Molly slid out from her seat, grabbing a last drink of tea before following him out of the pub. 'So why are we going to church?'

'Isn't it obvious?'

'No, not to me. I didn't even know you were religious. Do you do this every week?'

Sherlock stopped so suddenly Molly almost ran into the back of him. 'No of course I'm not religious Molly,' he retorted with exasperation. 'What on earth gave you that impression? Our biggest link in this case is the vicar and today is Sunday, so if we want to see him church is the place to be, he can't escape us there. Come on, the service starts at ten.'

By the time they arrived they could already hear singing but as they made their way through the door an elderly male verger showed them in, welcoming them to their first service. Sherlock glanced at the front and frowned, he turned to the verger before he left them and whispered. 'Is Reverend Tucker not officiating today?'

'No, there's no sign of him at the vicarage. We're not sure where he is. I opened up and Mrs May, the lay reader has stepped in to take over the service.'

Sherlock turned to the front but ignored Molly as she offered to share her hymn book with him. He sat when they all sat and stood when they stood but Molly could tell he wasn't really paying any attention to the service. She saw him looking around at the congregation and she followed his gaze. Molly recognised Lord Sladen at the front as well as Melissa Bennett who was stood next to an older man who Molly assumed was her husband, Hugh. She looked thinner than Molly remembered and less polished. The loss of her daughter was obviously affecting her deeply. There were a few others that she couldn't name but whom she recognised from the pub over the last few days.

As the service drew to a close Sherlock quickly stood and made his way past her to talk to the verger. Molly followed him over and caught the end of the conversation. 

'…I'm concerned that something untoward has happened to Rev Tucker, if you have access to the vicarage we need to check it now to make sure he's OK.'

'Oh, well. I'm not sure that's right. I mean, it's his home.'

'And what if he's ill? What if he’s collapsed or had a heart attack? You've already said yourself that it's not like him to miss a service without telling anyone or making provisions for cover. My colleague here is a doctor.'

Molly smiled and it obviously went some way to reassure the old man that they weren't up to anything dodgy because he nodded his head briefly and told them to wait outside the vicarage whilst he went to fetch the spare set of keys.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH 

Sherlock huffed impatiently, repeatedly looking up at the house as though it's visage might change under his gaze. The verger soon came back and unlocked the front door, calling out as they went in. 'Vicar, vicar. It's just me Ken I'm just wantin' to make sure you're alright.' 

Sherlock brushed past him and after briefly checking each room on the ground floor he ran up the stairs two at a time.

'Oy, don't you go snoopin' it ain't right.' 

Ken followed him up the stairs and he and Molly had just got to the top as Sherlock came out of the main bedroom.

'His bed's not been slept in...something's not right.' 

As Sherlock looked around his gaze alighted on a small chain hanging down from the loft hatch. He glanced at the floor beneath it crouching and touching some dust or dirt on the floor. He stood, looking back up and without another word he tugged the chain releasing the hatch and the folding ladder that went with it.

As soon as the passage to the attic opened Molly smelt it; that oh so familiar smell. She caught Sherlock's eye and they both nodded knowing exactly what they were going to find when they ascended the stairs. 

Molly turned to the old man. 'I think you should stay down here and you’d better call for the police and an ambulance.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let's just get one thing straight because I could hear some of you huffing in disgust at Sherlock's less than loving declaration. Sherlock is an idiot. Of course he is in love with Molly he just doesn't realise it yet. Be patient, he will get there I promise.

**Author's Note:**

> So I think we know she's going to take him up on the offer. Let me know what you think. I’ll aim to post two chapters at a time. Sadly there’s a bit of editing to do to the chapters as my writing standards have moved on in the last few years  xx


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